Grind Me Down
by delightful-fear
Summary: Sherlock glanced at the message on the app. 'You'd look beautiful on your knees before me.'... Sherlock is basically asexual. John is a bisexual dominant who has lots of hook-ups. They are flatmates. Sherlock becomes curious... (AU-Never Met)
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock was bored. It wasn't that new a state to him. It happened depressingly frequently.

A small bing sounded, and desperate for anything to catch his interest, Sherlock fumbled around in his pocket to pull out his mobile.

He chuckled when he saw it was a notification of a new message on a gay dating app. He had made a fake profile on it as research for a case ages ago, and had forgotten to delete it all.

Shrugging to himself, he opened the app and clicked to the chat screen. On the top of the list was the new one. The thumbnail photo was a black and white close up of a man's chest, and it caught his eye for actually being clothed, for once. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt, with army dog tags. The photo was cropped so it only showed the bottom of the man's jaw, showing nothing he could be recognized for in public. The upper part of his arms were in the frame, and had a decent amount of muscle to them. Overall, he looked slim and toned, not bulky with muscle.

Sherlock glanced at the message beside the photo. **You'd look beautiful on your knees before me.** His eyebrows rose a bit at reading it, and he found himself tapping the picture to view his profile. It listed his age, weight, height and that he was white, single and slim. The short blurb mentioned that he was into mild BDSM, and he wasn't surprised that he mentioned being a dominant, from his initial message.

Hitting the reply button, he quickly typed out **sorry, not looking for sex .** He usually didn't bother messaging back on this app.

A reply pinged just as he was about to set the phone back down.

 **pity, you are hot**

Sherlock scoffed, replying **oh well.** Why was he even bothering with this?

 **it's OK. I should be looking for a flat anyways, not wasting time looking for a hook-up.**

Sherlock glanced back at his profile. **the app says you are only 205 meters away. do you live near me now?**

It was only a minute for a reply.

 **I'm at my office**

Glancing at the stairs, Sherlock considered for a moment and gave an internal shrug. **I've been looking for a roommate**

 **ha, that's brilliant. Messaged you for a fuck and get a flat instead**

Sherlock found himself grinning as he gave his address and they arranged for a time for the man to view it. John would stop by after work, in a couple hours.

* * *

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: After doing a long historical Johnlock AU, I needed a bit of a change. Trying to do a BAMF John story, that probably won't be that explicit or too heavy in the BDSM.

-This story is based on an idea from tumblr friend: "John had tons of girlfriends maybe he's totally out as bi and brings over lots of men and women and Sherlock has to listen to him all animal sounds fucking them, and then so like sherlock's always like no I don't want sex because it will make me turn into a wanton whore or something like that and he's like secretly afraid that's true, that he'll love being ravished." The story started with this inspiration, and went a little different direction.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock waved around the sparse bedroom. "This is it. It's fairly simple."

As John looked around, opening the closet to peer inside, Sherlock was examining him.

Although a few inches shorter than Sherlock, he had a presence that drew the eye and made him seem bigger. He was dressed in navy trousers, a light blue dress shirt, and a grey flecked wooly jumper. Unfortunately, it hid his upper body a little too well. Overall, he seemed slim and fit, and matched the description from the online profile. That was rare, in Sherlock's experience, and showed that John had integrity.

His short, well-trimmed light hair and friendly expression made him seem like the perfect doctor, but Sherlock had a hard time connecting the man before him with his idea of a dominant. Shouldn't he have dark colouring, with huge piercing eyes? Full, lush lips and an overly bright set of bleached teeth? Tight black clothing, with boots that went at least to his knees, if not higher?

Sherlock was chuckling to himself as he followed John back down the stairs, imaging John in that get-up, possibly with spray-tanned skin and dyed black hair.

John sent him a questioning look, and Sherlock schooled his features, pushing the image away. "Um...come, the kitchen is this way."

He had only done some half-hearted tidying up. Any potential roommate had to be comfortable with a bit of casual disarray. The state of the apartment didn't seem to put him off.

They discussed the rent, and John seemed to find it quite reasonable for a decent place in the heart of London.

John levelled a direct look at Sherlock. "We met on Grindr, so you are aware of my proclivities. Do you mind if I bring people back here?"

Shaking his head, Sherlock sat down in his armchair and crossed his legs. "Not at all. What you do in your bedroom is your business."

Nodding, John stepped closer, until Sherlock had to tilt his head up to meet his eyes. He was quiet, a stillness around him that made things seem more intense somehow, and Sherlock felt very aware of his dark blue eyes looking down at him.

"Your message before said you aren't looking for sex. Is that still the case?" His voice was soft, but a deeper tone. It matched his interested gaze.

Blinking a few times, Sherlock found it almost hard to look away. He finally did, shifting in the chair slightly. "I, um, consider myself married to my work. I'm not looking for anything..."

John's lips tightened slightly. "Like I said before, that's a pity. I would love to see those lush lips wrapped around my cock." His gaze dropped to Sherlock's mouth for a few heartbeats, and then he stepped back.

He walked quickly to the doorway and took his coat down from the hook. Drawing it on, he turned back to Sherlock. "Well, I am interested in the place. Don't worry, I won't proposition you again."

Sherlock managed to get up, that graphic sentence still ringing in his head. He struggled to appear normal again. John was unpredictable, it seemed, but Sherlock liked that.

Holding out his hand, he shook John's. It was warm and surprisingly strong. "It's your's then. I'll have the key and lease ready when you come back with your possessions."

They finalized the details and John soon left.

Sherlock went back to his online research, letting out an irritated huff occasionally. It wasn't the first time he had received a sexual comment like that. Why did this one keep echoing and echoing in his mind?

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock looked up from his notes, glancing over at John reading on the sofa. "Didn't I ask you to get me a pen a few minutes ago?" He looked down at the table, not seeing a writing instrument anywhere.

John lifted his head, just giving Sherlock an easy smile back. "Yeah, that was pretty funny." He went back to reading, seeming very engrossed in his book.

Glaring at his new roommate seemed to have no effect at all. This was most unusual. With a huff, Sherlock flounced off his chair and marched over to the desk in the living room, loudly rustling papers until he found a pen, and marching back to the kitchen table to resume his studies through the microscope.

His dramatics didn't get much reaction from the doctor. Only an arched eyebrow and a slight shake to the head.

Definitely most unusual.

* * *

"Do you want to come with me?" Sherlock said a few days later, as he pulled on the Belstaff and wrapped a scarf around his neck.

John looked up from his sudoku, and shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll pass. Have a good time at the crime scene."

Sherlock was flummoxed. How could a medical doctor, someone trained in science, pass on an opportunity to see a double murder scene? "Aren't you even a little curious about it?"

Leaning back in his chair, John crossed his leg so his left ankle rested on his right knee. He shrugged. "I've seen enough blood and guts in Afghanistan for several lifetime's worth. You just want me there to watch you swan around, showing off your deduction ability. I get it, Sherlock, you are smart."

He could only sputter in outrage for a couple moments in response to that, and finally just stomped out, slamming the door behind him, hard. The loud noise was quite satisfying.

* * *

Monday night, Sherlock got home at a more normal hour from Bart's. The scene in the living room was quite a different one then he ever expected to see.

John hadn't had much stuff to move in, but one of the surprising things had been a simple padded bench and some free weights. He had explained that he needed to work to keep his injured shoulder strong and limber, and asked if it was OK to store the equipment in the living room. Sherlock had agreed to it.

This was the first time he had seen John using the equipment though. Slipping off his coat, Sherlock slowly moved to his chair, and picked up the newspaper for cover. But his eyes were nowhere near the paper.

John seemed to be stripped down to a white t-shirt and black boxer briefs. He was lying on his back on the weight bench, large dumbbells in each hand. As he exhaled, he brought them up with straight arms to be above his chest, and he inhaled as his arms went straight out to the sides. His motions were slow and controlled, his attention fully on his workout. Music was playing at a moderate level, some old classic rock.

Sherlock's attention was fully on John. He was finally seeing his body beneath the bulky jumpers and coats. He was quite slim, but well muscled. His chest and shoulders were broad, narrowing down to a flat stomach.

He got off the bench, holding the weights still in his hands, his arms at his sides. He started doing a set of lunges, stepping forward with one foot and bending the front leg to lower his body, before stepping back. Sherlock admired his strong legs, and the straight line of his back.

There were a few more exercises and then John seemed to be done, stashing the weights below the bench to be out of the way. He wiped the sweat off the vinyl padding, and wrapped the towel around his neck. Taking a water bottle, he guzzled most of it down.

It was only then that he turned Sherlock's way and noticed him in the armchair. "Oh, didn't realize you were there." He turned off the music. "You are welcome to use the equipment if you want."

"Ah, thanks..." Sherlock managed to get, feeling very aware of his roommate standing so close in just his underwear, still sweaty from the workout. His hair was damp, and his skin slightly flushed from the exertion. He looked vibrant and alive. _Sexy_.

The word just popped into Sherlock's head, and he froze, a bit shocked. He had played around with sex during university, trying a fair sampling of partners of both sexes, and had found the whole thing hardly worth the bother. Since then, he had simply focussed on his work, and by now, rarely felt sexual urges.

John nodded. "Well, I'm going to have a shower and then make some dinner. You're welcome to join me." He walked over to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

 _For dinner, or in the shower?_

Shaking his head at the thought, Sherlock went to his desk to work online. But as he did his research, part of his mind was paying attention to the sounds coming from the bathroom. When the water was turned off, he felt a sense of waiting.

It was rewarded a few minutes later. John stepped out of the bathroom, a small white towel wrapped around his hips, his hair still damp. His chest was bare, but Sherlock hardly even got a glance before John turned towards the stairs, picking up the work clothes he must have stripped off for his workout, and jogged up the stairs.

* * *

The next night, Sherlock made sure to come home around the same time, hoping to catch John working out again. He may have timed it a little too early, as the apartment was empty.

Sighing, he sunk into his armchair with a book.

Not much later, he could hear John running up the stairs, and he stilled, staring at his book but not reading the words anymore.

"Oh, Hi Sherlock." John greeted him with a wave, and then hung up his coat.

"John." Sherlock nodded in response. He continued pretending to read, but watching his roommate. Would he just strip down to his underwear right here and start working out?

To his disappointment, John headed straight into the bathroom and the shower soon started up. Sherlock noted it was over five minutes shorter than the one yesterday, and soon John exited, towel around his waist, carrying his clothes.

When he came back down, he wasn't dressed in PJ's and a robe like he had been yesterday, but a pair of dark jeans and a dark grey button-up. He pulled on his coat, looking over at Sherlock. "See you later."

Curiosity gnawed at Sherlock, but he pressed down the urge to ask John where he was going. Roommates didn't tell each other everything, did they?

* * *

Some noises woke Sherlock up later, and he blinked sleepily at the time on his cell.

The sounds coming from the living room were hushed voices, and a bit of laughter.

Oh, John must have brought someone home. Even though John had asked about it, and Sherlock had said it was OK, it was different dealing with the reality of it. It had been a few years since he had a roommate, and they had usually been quiet types who stuck to their rooms or worked long hours. Never socially that successful.

There was a drawn out moan, and a thump against the wall.

Curiosity had Sherlock jumping out of bed and standing near his door, listening hard to try to make out what was happening. It sounded like a woman, from her small moans and soft words of encouragement.

"Go upstairs to my bedroom and strip." John's voice was a low growl, and seconds later he could hear the light footfalls of the woman on the stairs, and the upstairs door closing.

He opened his door, stepping into the hallway.

John was near the entrance, his coat off and looking a bit rumpled. His hair was mussed and his eyes seemed dark and intense when he glanced towards Sherlock. "Oh, hope we didn't disturb you."

"Ah, no, it's OK. Just going to the bathroom." Sherlock made his excuse, pulling his robe closed, not missing how John's eyes went down to the skin of his bare chest that the robe left exposed.

Behind the bathroom door, Sherlock listened again, hearing John walk slowly up the stairs, and his bedroom door click shut. It was hard to hear much else after that, even back in his bedroom that was directly below John's. There was an occasional louder groan or moan, confirming they were having sex, but not enough to really paint a picture of what was happening. It was quite frustrating.

Eventually Sherlock feel asleep, the noises still going on in the room upstairs.

* * *

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock felt grumpy the next day, finding it hard to concentrate. He didn't have a good case for distraction, and the cold case files Lestrade had given him didn't grab his interest. It was probably just from not sleeping well the night before.

He was actually dozing on the sofa when John got home later. Keeping his eyes mostly shut, he feigned sleeping as John took off his coat. He must have noticed Sherlock there, as he seemed to be trying to be quiet.

A few minutes later, Sherlock could hear the soft clink of the dumbbells being shifted, and he moved slowly on the sofa until he had an unobstructed view.

John had stripped down to his underwear and was going through his routine. He had a pair of earbuds in, listening to his music that way so he didn't disturb Sherlock. He was a good roommate overall, being considerate like that. Whenever he cooked, he always encouraged Sherlock to have some of the meal, and he found himself enjoying the shared meals more than he expected. He was tidy and paid his share of the rent and bills, never complaining much about Sherlock's body parts in the kitchen.

Sherlock had read John from their first meeting, and wasn't that surprised that John had turned out to be such a good roommate. He had discipline from his years in the army, sticking to his routines and getting things done without fuss. He seemed to enjoy his work at the clinic, sharing stories with Sherlock over meals. He was comfortable with himself, that underlying confidence there in everything he did.

It was compelling, and Sherlock felt pulled by it. Even now, he was watching avidly as John went through his workout, seeing the way he ran through it showed how routine it was for him. He wanted to be fit and had the discipline to do the work to maintain it. His body certainly showed that he took good care of himself. Sherlock's eyes ran over John's arms as he did alternating bicep curls, the muscles in his upper arms flexing with the smooth motions, a glean of sweat on his skin.

He got lost in it, watching John, and it was a bit startling when John finished. Closing his eyes, he listened as John started the shower, drifting off to thoughts of him naked, running soapy hands over his body.

* * *

"Hey, shift over, would you?" John's voice brought him out of his daydreams, and Sherlock sat up. John sat down, handing Sherlock a large bowl of stir-fry. The scent of soy and fresh ginger rose up, making him realize he probably hadn't eaten all day.

John's eyes were amused as he watched Sherlock eat quickly. "Slow down. You'll make yourself sick if you eat so fast on an empty stomach."

His comment showed he was just as aware of Sherlock's habits as he was getting to be of John's.

John clicked on the TV to a sit-com, chuckling along with the jokes as he enjoyed his meal.

"The woman from the other night...," Sherlock started, putting his empty bowl down in the coffee table.

John flicked an assessing glance his way before looking back at the telly. "Yes. What about her?"

Perhaps he was overstepping, but he was so curious. "Um, was she from Grindr?"

John turned slightly towards Sherlock, finishing his bite of food before answering. "Grindr is for men. She is from FetLife." He turned back to his program.

He had answered the question, but Sherlock found himself unsatisfied. "What's that?" He hadn't come across it in his research before.

"It's a website for people into kinky stuff. It's hard to find submissive women on normal dating apps." John said, still seeming a bit amused by Sherlock.

The whole thing seemed so strange. Did John just regularly message people in a variety of apps to set up meetings for sex? Was this what people did now?

John seemed to sense Sherlock's befuddlement, as he set down his empty bowl and turned off the TV. "On Grindr, your user name is 'AlmostAVirgin'. Is that true? Are you really that inexperienced?"

When Sherlock had set up the account a year ago, he had tried to think of a user name that would draw in his suspect. He had deliberately picked the name, and used a picture where he looked young and unintimidating. It had worked, and he soon had enough information from the suspect to confirm his guilt. But it had also worked on many other men in the site, with hundreds of messages flooding his app. He had ignored them all, and gradually they tapered off.

Sherlock shrugged. "I have had a few partners years ago, but I really just don't have much interest in sex." It was always a bit of a shock how much time and energy other people devoted to it, searching for partners, arranging dates. Was it really worth all that to relieve an occasional biological urge? That part always mystified him.

"Your user name is 'ObeyMyOrders'." Sherlock shot back, wanting to turn the focus back to John. "Are you always just looking for submissive men or women?"

John shrugged. "It's what works for me. I find vanilla sex a bit dull." He shifted their dirty dishes to the side, and leaned back against the sofa, resting his feet on the old coffee table. He was wearing a light grey t-shirt with loose drawstring pyjama bottoms, and Sherlock's eyes traced along his body. He had seen so much of it now, zipping by in only a towel after his showers. What was he like without the towel?

Turning the TV back on, John went back to watching his show. "You can continue the nap I disturbed, if you want. Here, lie down and rest your head here." He patted his thigh.

Without questioning it too much, Sherlock obeyed, stretching out along the length of the sofa, his head resting on John's warm, muscular thigh. John pulled a throw over him, and Sherlock felt himself drifting off, hands stroking through his hair.

* * *

Sherlock awoke a little later to a tug to his hair. Pulling away, he rolled over slowly as looked up at John. He was asleep, and his hand in Sherlock's hair before must have moved a little.

Taking the opportunity, Sherlock examined John from this close vantage point, the light from the TV flickering over them. They must have shifted down on the sofa slightly. John's t-shirt was a bit rucked up, a stripe of bare skin showing above his waistband. There was a bit of light coloured hair, and Sherlock was tempted to reach out to touch it, wanting to feel the texture with his fingers.

Looking downwards, he froze. John was fully hard, the thin material hiding little and making it obvious he wasn't wearing underwear. Had John been having an erotic dream, Sherlock curled against him and his hand in his hair? Was he dreaming about him even now? Was that what was making him hard?

Sherlock found he was breathing a bit faster, his heart rate picking up. But still he didn't move away, his head still resting on John's thigh, his hard cock only inches away from his face, just the thin material keeping him from seeing John fully. It didn't stop him from looking closely, tracing his eyes over it. It seemed to be quite thick, and longer than he expected from a man of John's height.

He shifted on the sofa, and was suddenly aware that he was hard as well. Reaching down under the covers, he ran a hand lightly over his erection, and let out a soft gasp at the sensation. He had ignored his body so long, he rarely paid attention when he got an erection, ignoring them until they faded.

But now, lying on his own sofa, he traced his fingertips along himself while staring at John's cock, and felt a surge of heat. A surge of wanting. John's words from that first day rung in his mind, over and over, and the idea seemed so much more intriguing. What would it feel like to pull the drawstring undone on his pyjamas, and push the fabric away? What would it feel like to take John into his mouth, feeling his fingers clenching in his hair as he pleasured him?

He must have made a noise or something, because John shifted, and seemed to be waking up. Sherlock blushed, the heat warming his face, and he rolled off the couch, escaping to his own bedroom.

* * *

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

The next night, John showered as soon as he got home, and Sherlock had a sinking feeling. Not long later, John was heading out in his date clothes, and Sherlock didn't even bother saying goodbye.

How long until he came back with someone and took them up to his room? Should he just go out, go down to the Yard, leave for a few hours? The thought of hearing John again with someone through the walls was just too irritating.

He slammed around the apartment, making a mess as he looked for a note he misplaced. When had it all changed? When had it gone from just being roommates to being like this? He felt constantly aware of John, zooming in on the little clues he left around the apartment, cataloging them all away. It was several weeks of data now, and Sherlock felt he knew him quite well.

He could tell when John picked tea or coffee when he walked into the kitchen, even though everything was tidied away. He could smell the lingering scent of it, could see the plate with crumbs from his toast in the sink. He knew on workout nights, he was longer in the shower because he was masturbating. On his date nights, his showers were quick, saving up his sexual needs for later.

Well, even though signs of John were everywhere, even when he wasn't here, it was still Sherlock's flat too. He wouldn't be chased out of it, just because his roommate apparently used sex as a cardio workout.

He grabbed his phone, flicking to the Grindr app and looking at the men who had messaged him. Should he be like John? Set up a meeting and bring his own date back here? Would John even notice if he did? Would he care? Did Sherlock want him to?

This is everything he had been avoiding all these years. Sex and relationships always caused such a mess. Was it really worth any of this for an occasional orgasm with another person?

He found himself reading John's initial messages, chuckling to himself at the strange way they had come together. He looked back at John's profile, and it was all true. He had nothing to hide. He was self-confident without seeming cocky, never cool and aloof like some people accused Sherlock of being. His quiet sense of control, his self-assured nature, was just at the core of who he was.

A text came in from Lestrade, and Sherlock felt relieved. Soon he was running out the door.

* * *

A few hours later, he headed up the stairs, feeling a bit tired from chasing a suspect. He opened the door, and stopped short.

John was lying on the sofa, fully dressed, kissing a man wearing only white underwear. The man on top saw Sherlock first, freezing in place, John's hands on his bare back.

Tilting his head up, John saw Sherlock standing there. "Oh, you're back. We'll get out of your way." He looked back at the man, pushing his brown hair back from his eyes. "Go upstairs and get ready." His voice was firm and commanding, and Sherlock could see the way his partner reacted to it. His eyes flared with heat, and he scampered quickly to obey.

"Stop." John said softly when the man was already on the stairs. The young man halted, turning back to John. "Pick up your clothes before you go."

Sherlock had a better chance to examine John's date as he moved around the living room, picking up a shirt near the door, trousers near the kitchen, and an undershirt near the sofa. He was about Sherlock's height, but with a more muscular frame. It would be easy to image him playing a game of rugby with his mates and going for a beer afterwards.

John seemed in no rush to follow his date up the stairs when he left, picking up a glass of white wine from the table and sipping it slowly.

"Aren't you going to join him?" Sherlock finally asked, his sense of tension just becoming unbearable. He had left the apartment hoping to avoid all this, and here he was, stuck in the middle of it.

John shrugged. "In a minute or two. It will take him a while to get ready and anticipation makes everything better, don't you think?" His voice was a bit lower than normal, a bit of a drawl to it.

Sherlock looked him over, seeing his swollen lips, the red mark on his neck, and other signs. John was definitely aroused. Why wasn't he just going up to his date for what they both seemed to want?

John chuckled, getting off the sofa slowly with liquid grace. He walked over to Sherlock's armchair, stepping close. It reminded Sherlock of that first day, tipping his face up to look at John. His breath caught at the thought, the graphic comment running through his mind for the millionth time. He blushed, and looked down.

Warm fingers on his chin tilted his face back up, John searching his expression and looking pleased at what he saw there. "Oh, you don't really understand, do you? How good it is to wait sometimes to get what you want? How good it feels when you finally get it?" His gaze dropped down to his mouth, and Sherlock could feel his face flush again. He closed his eyes, embarrassed at how out of control he felt over it all. So out of his depth.

"I hope you learn someday, pretty thing." John said softly, brushing his thumb lightly over Sherlock's bottom lip. And then he was gone.

Sherlock watched as John jogged lightly up the stairs, to his lover. With a frustrated huff, Sherlock grabbed his coat and left. He was tired but he couldn't sleep with that other man in the flat.

* * *

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mmmmm..." John stretched, rolling his shoulders, before settling back down on the sofa. He was about halfway through his book, and some jazz was playing from his nearby laptop. "We really should get up and make some dinner soon, or order take-out. But I'm feeling too lazy to even move."

Sherlock looked over at his roommate, the late afternoon sun coming through the windows giving everything a warm glow. He was dressed in a white, sleeveless undershirt and pyjama bottoms, his feet bare. It was Sunday, a day he often relaxed around the apartment. He was unshaven, a slight scruff already showing from missing one day. It would take Sherlock days to show that much. He smiled, John reminding him of a big, lazy tomcat, lying in the sun.

He got up, taking his phone into the kitchen and flipping through the menus from local restaurants. He put the kettle on after he placed an order, and was just putting a tray of tea on the coffee table when the delivery came.

John made a motion to sit up to make room for Sherlock on the sofa, but he shook his head, sinking down onto a pillow on the floor, resting his back against it. They dug into the Pad Thai hungrily.

John made a little moan of pleasure as he savoured his meal. The sound zinged right through Sherlock, warming him. When John finished his meal and leaned over to pour a cup of tea, he rested his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, the warm weight strangely comforting.

He settled back on the sofa with his drink with a pleased hum. Stroking a hand along Sherlock's hair, he let his hand go down to his neck, giving it a little squeeze. "Good job, Sherlock. That was just what I needed."

The soft praise felt good, and the hand even better. When he pulled it away to pick his book up again, Sherlock missed it.

He picked up his own book, not moving from his spot. Maybe if he stayed here, John would reach out and touch him again.

* * *

The next two weeks were similar. John seemed to alternate between night out, and nights when he stayed in to work out and eat in. Sherlock loved those nights, taking his spot on the cushion in front of the sofa, keeping close to John. They talked about everything, often making each other laugh at stories from their past. It was so easy and comfortable and good. He had John's full attention for the whole night. Sundays were even better, usually a whole long day together. He was getting to anticipate them, looking forward to them.

The nights John went out were the worst. Sherlock couldn't concentrate, knowing John was out eating or drinking with someone else, talking and laughing. That was their thing, and there he was, sharing it so casually with others. Flirting and seeing if there was enough chemistry to take it to the next step. John usually brought his dates home, but sometimes things hadn't worked out. Sherlock always grinned far too much to himself when that happened.

* * *

John's mobile gave a soft ping, and he turned away, reading a message. It had been happening far too often today. Maybe Sherlock should fling the damn device into the Thames. This was their time, their Sunday, and the random hookup was interrupting everything.

Seeing John was still involved with his oh-so-fascinating messages, Sherlock got up from his pillow and went over to his armchair, picking up a book.

A few minutes later, he sensed John standing close, and looked up at him. He was in another sleeveless undershirt, with jeans, his face unshaven. He looked good, his hair a bit messy.

John chuckled, looking down at Sherlock. "Don't be moody. You know they don't mean anything to me."

That made Sherlock pout even more. "Then stop messaging them. Take yourself off the apps." He didn't even know why this bothered him so much.

"I like spending time with you, Sherlock. You have become a good friend, and I love your intelligence and dark humour. But you don't give me everything I need." John said softly, his blue eyes caring.

Sherlock looked down, flushing. "You mean sex. They give you sex. Submission."

"Yes, Sherlock. I have needs. They satisfy them." John was still standing so close, Sherlock could feel the warmth from his body. He always seemed to give off heat, and Sherlock wanted to curl into it. Warm himself in it.

He opened his eyes, looking up at his friend. "I could satisfy your needs, John."

A warm hand cupped the back of his neck, giving it a squeeze before letting go. "No, Sherlock. You'd be doing it just to please me, and that wouldn't be right. It goes against your nature. You said so yourself that you are practically asexual. It would screw things up between us." John sounded regretful.

He stepped back, retreating. Sherlock was scared. Was this it then? Would John keep pulling away when they were getting so close, out of fear of hurting Sherlock?

"No, no...," Sherlock stood up quickly, facing John fully. Not blushing or looking away. He couldn't convince John he really wanted this that way. He met John's blue eyes, holding his gaze. "I want you, John. I think about you, about us, about being together sexually. Please, give us a chance."

Heat sparked in John's eyes at the words, and his eyes dipped to Sherlock's mouth. He felt a thrill of victory, knowing John still desired him like he had from the start. He had kept his word, not propositioning him, not pressuring him. But the interest hadn't faded in all this time.

"You can read me well enough to know I want you, Sherlock. But you are 'AlmostAVirgin'. I told you vanilla sex isn't satisfying for me. My needs would be too much for you to handle." John shook his head, dropping his gaze.

Sherlock grabbed his head, and tilted it in the perfect position for a deep, hard kiss. He hadn't kissed anyone for ages, pushing aside his insecurity in his abilities as he got lost in the sensation of kissing John.

John took a half step back, breaking off the kiss, looking at Sherlock in surprise. Whatever he saw must have been enough as he gave Sherlock a hard shove, toppling him back into the armchair and crawling over his lap, knees planted on either side of his thighs. He yanked Sherlock's hair back, and leaned down to kiss him properly.

Unlike Sherlock unskilled, enthusiastic kiss, John knew what he was doing. They were soon groaning, pressing to be closer together, the heat incredible.

John pulled back, looking down at Sherlock fondly, seeing his darkened eyes and kiss swollen lips. Seeing the way he pulled against John's hand in his hair, wanting more kisses. "Mmmm... you don't know how long I've wanted to see you like this, panting and needy. I love it." He lowered his face down to plant some light, teasing kisses against his full lips, until Sherlock was whining for deeper, harder ones.

His whiskers were scratchy as John kissed down Sherlock's long neck, the tight hold of his hair tilting his head back to give him perfect access even when Sherlock squirmed in reaction. He was pinned under John, under his control, and it was surprisingly heady to just let go and soak it all in. For so long, he had ignored the needs of his body. This was making him aware of every inch of it. He wanted to feel John everywhere, wanted every sensation.

Sex had never been like this before, and this was only kissing, with their clothes fully on. What would complete sex with John be like? Vanilla sex, and then on to all the other things he enjoyed? How far did it all go? Could he handle it all?

John lowered his hips, settling on Sherlock's lap, and rocked against him. Sherlock groaned, his hands coming up to clutch at John's back.

"It's OK, sweetheart." John chuckled, his voice a little raspy. He took one of Sherlock's hands away from his back and laid it on the arm of the chair, and did the same with his other hand. "There. Now I want you to leave your hands there, no matter what I do. Can you do that for me?"

Sherlock nodded quickly. "Um...yes." His heart was thumping and he felt so out of control. John smiled down at him, and Sherlock felt a warm glow of pleasure at it.

"If we are going to do this, we need some rules. I'll lay them out and give you some time to really think it all over before we go any further. If you change your mind, I'll respect it and we will go back to how things were." John said, his gaze steady on Sherlock's.

Sherlock nodded, wanting to hear the rules.

Taking a deep breath, John let it out slowly, calming himself, centring himself. "We will take things slowly, giving you time to learn and get used to all this. You won't try to rush things. You will obey my commands without hesitation. Not doing so will result in a punishment. If something is beyond what you think you can do, you can safeword at any time and I'll stop."

Sherlock blinked a few times, letting it all sink in. He had never done anything like this before. Could he handle it? "Is this going to like those movies that were out lately? Do you have some dungeon room somewhere I don't know about?"

John chuckled. "I'm surprised you know anything about those movies. I didn't think you paid attention to things like that."

Shrugging, Sherlock gave a wry smile. "Sometimes I'm too observant for my own good."

"Well, I'm more into domination and submission as a power exchange, than delving into bondage and whips. But if you find later that you are interested in that, we can experiment."

Lowering his brows, Sherlock tried to understand. "What do you like then?"

John grinned a bit wickedly. "I get off on you obeying me, like the way you are keeping your hands where I put them." He dipped down to give Sherlock a quick kiss. "I like it when you sit on the floor near the sofa, and let me play with your hair. I like you serving me."

It was surprising. Many of those were things Sherlock did out of his own volition. Things that seemed to happen naturally. "I like doing those things too. So, a lot of it isn't necessarily sexual then?"

"It's no wonder you are catching onto this so fast. You are naturally very intuitive to others, reading them. A good sub senses what his dom wants and needs, often giving it before even being asked." John stroked along Sherlock's arm, and it felt good.

"It sounds very one-sided to me. Unbalanced. I give and give to you. What do I get back?"

John's eyebrows raised. "Why did you keep sitting on the floor like that? It pleased both of us, it felt right. You seem to like finding ways to please me."

Sherlock nodded, still processing it all. "You said I have to obey your commands without hesitation. Is that all commands? Even when we're out in public?"

"We will ease our way into it. In public, there won't be many, and they will be more discreet. Sometimes it's hotter that way." John said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Seeing him like that made Sherlock shift under him. Enough talking, more kissing. "OK, is that it for the rules?"

Shaking his head, John shifted back on Sherlock's lap. "The most important one is left." He put his hand on Sherlock's chest, and ran it slowly downwards until he was cupping him. He got harder under that warm touch, lifting his hips slightly to press into that hand. John gave him a squeeze that made Sherlock moan, closing his eyes.

Eventually, Sherlock opened his eyes again. John hadn't moved his hand. "This is mine, from now on. You are not allowed to come unless I say so." He gave another squeeze and let go.

"I have a condition also." Sherlock managed, still a bit breathless from John's touch.

"Oh really?" John released his hold on Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock raised his head, giving John a level look back. "I'll go all in, agree to your conditions, but you have to be all in as well. I want you to be exclusive with me. No dating or sex with other people. No others subs."

John leaned in to give Sherlock a long, deep kiss. It wasn't hard or frantic like their earlier ones were, but still expressing so much. "Yes, Sherlock. I can agree to that. Do you agree to mine?"

"Yes, I do." Sherlock said, and then they both chuckled at how the words had come out. This was hardly a wedding vow acceptance.

John crawled off Sherlock, and pulled on his hand to stand together in a hug. He stepped back with a rueful smile. "Great. We'll get started next Sunday then."

"Sunday!" Sherlock gasped. "Nothing until then? No orders, no kissing, no anything?"

John hugged him again. "We both need time to think about this, make sure it's not just a decision in the heat of the moment. We have a week to back out, no hard feelings. A cooling off period."

A week felt like forever. "It's too long, John."

His new dom only chuckled, giving Sherlock's cheek a light pat. "Oh, it will be so much the sweeter for waiting. You'll see."

* * *

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a long, long week.

Now that he knew how John's mouth felt on his, he wanted it all the time. They could hardly have a conversation without Sherlock getting distracted, his eyes drifting down to John's mouth, watching as he spoke. If he any little bit of a scruff growing in, Sherlock just wanted him to rub it along his bare skin, like he had on his neck last Sunday.

John didn't seem immune either, although he put on a detached demeanour. His eyes were doing their share of looking, and when Sherlock saw the heated glances, he would look away, confused. There was excitement, but also fear. Would he like what they did? Would he be enough for John?

XXX

It was Thursday night, and normally John would have gone out on a date. He hadn't this week, spending more time around the flat and going out a little with friends, even inviting Sherlock along.

Being around John even more, and knowing he wasn't dating anyone else, made Sherlock want him even more. To have to wait a few more days was just torture.

After years of ignoring his body and sexual needs, they were making up for it now. It felt like he was in a constant state of arousal, aware that he was half-hard most of the time, and it only took a look or an innocent touch from John to make him rock hard. Aching. He had never, never, felt like this before.

It was even worse because John had said he couldn't come without his permission. He hadn't wanted to masturbate for years, and now he wanted to several times a day. Being told he couldn't made him want it even more. It was forbidden, and therefore even more tempting.

Tonight, he went to bed, stripping down to his briefs, and laid under the covers. They had been watching some dumb movie which John seemed to enjoy. Sherlock hardly paid attention to it, since John was stroking his fingers through his hair. He had simply closed his eyes, and sunk into the sensations, soaking them in. There was a small pull as John dug his fingers in, running them through the curls. It was somehow erotic and satisfying, being petted like that.

Just being near John and having his light touch had Sherlock's arousal simmering all night. His hand drifted down, tracing along his cock, feeling it quickly getting harder at the light touch. It would be so easy to slip his hand under the material and stroke, hard and fast. There had been a few times over the years when he had resorted to that. Masturbating quickly just to release the sexual tension.

He pulled his hand away with a sigh. It was partially fear of John somehow knowing he had 'cheated', that he hadn't followed the rules. But also, John had mentioned that anticipation made sex better a few times, and Sherlock wanted to see for himself if this was true. Already, the tiny amount of things they had done together was many times better than it had been with his previous partners. Was it because he was older, more mature? Or was it just because it was John? Or was it because of the dom/sub element? He had only vanilla sex with his other partners.

He was eager to explore this and find out.

XXX

By Saturday, he was at his limit. He went with John to Tesco's, following his orders that were framed as requests, but he could see the glow in John's eyes with each one he uttered. It sent a pang of arousal through him in response, and he glowed with warmth each time John praised him.

"Sherlock, would you go pick out four navel oranges?" John asked, his voice quiet with a slight scratchy edge. It was a private voice that was better suited to more personal requests, like to unbutton his shirt.

Meeting his gaze, Sherlock nodded and headed off on his task. He got a plastic bag and carefully picked out the fruit that were large and unblemished.

Placing them in the cart, John rested his hand on Sherlock's shoulder as he stepped closer. "Thank you, that's perfect." Again, it was that soft, private voice, with John leaning close to say it. Almost whispering it in Sherlock's ear.

Pushing the shopping cart, Sherlock clenched his hands on the handle, trying his best to resist John's playful teasing. With every word, Sherlock just wanted to turn and kiss John, pushing together, body against body. Get lost in it.

If someone had told him a month ago that he would find grocery shopping an erotic experience, he would have thought they had gone around the bend. Glancing at his roommate, he was amazed at the changes to his life since they had met. He was no longer bored. Sexually frustrated, maybe, but not bored.

XXX

"I think you deserve a reward for how good you have been so far this week." John said casually, his fingers tickling along the back of Sherlock's neck.

Turning, he looked back at John, with a small smile. "Oh really?"

John nodded. "Come up here. I'm going to teach you how to kiss."

Sherlock bit back a snarky remark, wanting to refute the statement. John was offering some kissing, and he was smart enough to shut up and not screw this up before it even started.

Shifting to lie lengthwise on the sofa, John urged Sherlock to crawl over him. He lowered his face, his lips pressing against John's eagerly, and sinking into it with a moan. He had wanted this so many days.

John pushed at his shoulder until Sherlock lifted his head. "OK, you get marks for enthusiasm, but I want you to try something different. First, kiss me as lightly as you can. Tease me with barely touching our lips together."

It sounded ridiculous, but Sherlock gave it a try. He closed his eyes, pushing down the urge to sink into long, deep kisses, and focused on John. Felt his breath against his cheek, his lips. Felt a surge of awareness at that. Let his mouth hover over John's, and dipping down for soft, light kisses. Feeling how soft they were.

John made a pleased sound that sent a zing down Sherlock's spine. He was so attuned to this man. "Good. Now try brushing your lips over mine."

Sherlock obeyed, the slight friction of the kiss creating a tingle of sensation. He did the same with John's other simple instructions, experimenting with nibbling, light biting, and different pressures.

"Good, now you put that all together, and mix it up. Keep your partner guessing. Here, I'll show you and then you can try." His hands dug into Sherlock's curls, pulling him closer for his lazy, exploring kisses, teasing Sherlock with the variations he had taught him. Sherlock tried to catalogue each caress, but he was soon arching into John, panting with need, unable to think straight.

John pulled back, looking bemused at Sherlock's expression. "You look so good, eyes are dark with need and lips so well-kissed. Messed up and just wanting more. So gorgeous."

Sherlock enjoyed the praise, but it didn't stop the need for more. He whined, trying to move closer for more kisses but John's hand in his hair held him back.

"Behave, or we'll stop for the day." John said firmly, with a tug on his hair. "Now, I want you to copy what I do." He leaned in close and flicked a quick lick along Sherlock's bottom lip.

His breath caught at the sensation, and he repeated the action, liking it. John was faster after that, doing an action and pausing for Sherlock to copy it, sometimes repeating the same one until Sherlock got it right. The world shrunk down to this, immersing himself in just following John's actions, shutting out other thoughts, losing himself to it.

It was a long time later that he drifted up, out of it, feeling John rubbing his back and saying his name softly. His face was tucked into John's neck. "You did so good. I'm so proud of you, Sherlock."

The praise and being wrapped tight in John's arms was the best feeling he'd ever had. He felt surrounded in approval and warmth, glowing with it. He sunk against John, trusting this man completely.

Eventually, John shifted under him and he helped Sherlock sit up, giving him a concerned look. "How do you feel now, Sherlock?"

Shaking his head slowly to clear it, he blinked at John. "What happened? We were kissing, and I got a little lost in it or something."

Chuckling, John hugged him tight, stroking a hand along his back. "I think you became so focused on what we were doing, and on me, that you sunk into subspace. I've never seen it just from kissing before."

"Subspace." Sherlock tested the word out, not recognizing it.

"With experienced subs, they know and trust their doms enough to enter an altered state. People describe it different ways, experience it different ways. It is usually in a scene involving pain, like from a cane or a crop, that the sub concentrates on absorbing and submitting to, and they get carried away on the high that is created by the attention, the pain, and the feelings of total submission and trust." John shook his head, looking a little excited, but stunned.

Sherlock was confused. "But there was no pain."

John shrugged. "I will talk to some friends in the D/S scene for their view on it. I don't want to play too intensely with you again until I understand it better though."

"God, don't tell me I need to wait another week!" Sherlock grumbled. This was all such a mess to his regular life. He was feeling so many things he wasn't used to.

Giving a slow, slightly wicked smile, John shook his head. "I couldn't stay away from you if I tried. You are simply fascinating, Sherlock."

Returning his hungry gaze, Sherlock felt the same way about his dom flatmate. This was a scary path they were traversing, but he wasn't going to turn back now. He wanted to know where it would lead. And he had John with him all the way.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Thanks for reading this strange story so far! This version of John and Sherlock is a lot different than they are in my other fics, and I'm not used to writing dom/sub dynamic either. I have been posting daily as I had drafts of these early chapters done. Updates will likely be once or twice a week going forward.


	8. Chapter 8

John cuddled with Sherlock on the sofa. "I talked with friends and have done some research, and I'm pretty sure you were in subspace the other day."

Sherlock nodded, meeting John's eyes. "So, is that a good thing?"

John screwed his lips to the side. "Um, it's not something I'm that experienced in, frankly. I'm not into S&M, the tying of a sub up and using pain play. Pain, arousal and submission can bring the sub to subspace, but everyone I talked with had never heard of someone reaching that state from kissing alone." He shook his head.

"You have magic lips, perhaps?" Sherlock smirked, flicking his eyes down to them. He was willing to fall under their spell again.

Chuckling, John shook his head, looking at Sherlock fondly. "I think it's more about you than about me. You are an unusual man, with an incredible brain. To have you focus it on me, and trusting me enough to let go...I think that is what happened."

"I liked it, letting go. Almost a deep meditation. Following your lead." Sherlock said as he thought back on how it had felt. Peaceful, perhaps like floating in the warm salt water of a sensory deprivation tank, the outside world fading away. John was everything.

John nodded. "Well, now I know that you can enter subspace easier than other people, I'll watch for it. For now, I want you more aware of what we do together."

Seeing the intense way John was looking at him, Sherlock felt a surge of arousal. "Please say we are going to do something now."

John nodded, getting off the sofa and holding out his hand to Sherlock. He got up from his pillow on the floor, John's hand grasping his firmly. He tugged Sherlock as he headed towards Sherlock's bedroom. The possibilities made his head swim and his pants feel tighter.

Stopping at the side of the bed, John faced Sherlock. "Last time, I taught you about kissing. Today, the lesson is about touching." His hands lifted to Sherlock's top button, working it free and sliding down to the next one.

Sherlock was soaking up the feeling of John undressing him, and his nearness, his thoughts focussing down to the here and now. The world didn't exist beyond this room. Outside sounds faded, making the thump of his heart and the sound of their quickening breathing seem even louder.

The last button was undone, and John paused, looking up at Sherlock. "Before we go any further, you should pick a safe word, Sherlock."

Blinking, being pulled out of the moment, Sherlock shook his head. "No, I don't need one. I trust you."

John dropped his hands from Sherlock's shirt. "Thank you for that, but we both need it. I won't always notice your limits. Plus, I may become so involved in a scene I lose perspective a little. A safe word will pull me out enough to stop and check in with you. It protects us both."

With a little sigh, Sherlock looked up, searching for a word. " _Concesso_."

Nodding at the Latin word, John's hand went back to Sherlock's shirt, and slowly drew it off him. He made no effort to hide his interest as his eyes took Sherlock in, his expression admiring. "So beautiful, Sherlock."

Standing a bit straighter at the praise, Sherlock's breath caught when John's hands went to his trousers, undoing them. Soon, the fabric was sliding down his legs and John helped him step out of the garment, along with his socks.

He would have felt cold and exposed normally, wearing only his paisley silk boxers, but felt warm under John's attentive perusal. He felt attractive and cherished, and pulled his shoulders back a little.

"Yes, you should preen under my gaze. You are a beauty, just like I thought you would be. Unusual and unique." John said softly, his words like a stroke down Sherlock's back.

John nodded at him. "Now it is your turn to follow my actions. Undress me."

Hands shaking a little, he concentrated on undoing each button. It seemed to take ages to work them free, and to finally have the reward of drawing the fabric back. Sherlock had imagined John bare so often, and seen him in an undershirt, with quick glances when he came out of the bathroom after a shower. But to have his bare chest so close was entirely different.

John was slim and toned, but his muscles weren't bulky. His stomach was flat, but not defined into a six pack. There was a moderate amount of light coloured chest hair. But what drew Sherlock's attention the most was the old injury.

There was a patch about the size of his palm of raised scar tissue, showing that it hadn't just been a simple gunshot wound. There had been complications, and John was lucky to have come out of months of recovery with so much functionality. No wonder he took such care with his workouts to maintain it.

Sherlock raised his eyes to John's, seeing how he was watching Sherlock's reaction to the injury. He seemed satisfied, not shrinking away from his curiosity. He was comfortable in his own skin, knew himself. And that confidence was damn sexy.

Undoing John's jeans was harder to do. This was taking a step into being sexual with someone else, willingly opening himself to it. It had been so long since he had done anything like this, and it was comforting that John stood there quietly while Sherlock fumbled. Not rushing him. Knowing he needed time to let this sink in.

Knowing that he could stop if he needed to, and John wouldn't judge him.

That knowledge gave him the bravery to push through his discomfort and slip the jeans and socks off. John was compact and muscular, solid. He was wearing black boxer-briefs, like Sherlock had seen him in many times, working out. He hadn't seen him tenting them out like this, his mind flashing to that time they had napped and Sherlock woken to that hard cock so near. Would he finally see it, touch it, today? Without realizing it, he licked his lips.

John groaned softly, and Sherlock flicked his eyes up to John's in surprise.

Shaking his head, John was staring at Sherlock's dampened lips. "You undress me, stare at my erection, and lick your lips? Are you really shocked I reacted to that, Sherlock?"

The words with the heated look coiled the desire even tighter inside Sherlock. It was a wonderful thing, knowing he affected John so much, knowing it wasn't all one-sided. He had sexual power over John. It made him feel braver.

Following a definitely naughty urge, Sherlock slipped to his knees before John, resting his hands on his thighs, and looked up at John through his eyelashes coyly. "What would you like to do now, sir?"

He had watched people enough over the years to know how to flirt when he needed to. He was a good actor, adopting a role to get what he wanted from people. He did this now as a whim, wanting to be sexy and playful. Lightening the mood a little, perhaps.

The reaction from John should have been an amused chuckle and being called a brat, before maybe being ordered to stand up and get on the bed.

Instead, he got a rough, bitten off curse, and John's hand coming down to the nape of his neck. His eyes were burning up, and the heat sent a wave like a tsunami crashing over Sherlock in response.

The hand pulled him forward, until his face was against John's stomach. "Kiss me there." The order was direct and firm, the hand on the back of his neck keeping him in place. Hesitantly, Sherlock pursed his lips and pressed them to John's warm skin, and got a shudder in response. Emboldened, he brushed his lips softly over a larger area, and got a groan.

He sunk into it, using all the different types of kisses John had shown him over the skin he could reach, varying it up with some flicks of his tongue, and soft bites. His experiments resulted in encouraging reactions; John making noises, shifting against him, changing in his breathing. Little strokes and clenching of the hand against his neck. He loved soaking in all of that, along with the taste and smell of John. And John's hard cock, encased in the stretchy black cotton, rubbing occasionally against Sherlock's chest or neck depending how he leaned to kiss him.

"Touch my legs," came the next order, a rough whisper. Sherlock paused in teasing John's belly button with flicks of his tongue, and moved his hands to John's ankles. Internally shrugging, Sherlock resumed what he had been doing with his mouth as his hands glided slowly upwards. John hadn't ordered him to stop it, after all.

John seemed to have no objections, his groans and shifting against Sherlock becoming even more frequent.

It was fantastic, focussing completely on the man before him, varying his kisses and touches to get the most response. Pleasing his dom. Showing how much he adored and wanted this man with every caress. Wanting more, but knowing it was for John to decide if that would be allowed. If he did this right, aroused him enough, it might influence him.

Had it been ten minutes or two hours? Sherlock lost track of time , just completely in the moment, savouring it after a week of drought. He whined a little when the hand moved to his shoulder, drawing him back.

"Such a good, eager boy." John said in a rough tone, softly enough Sherlock had to strain to hear it. His eyes were dark, looking at Sherlock closely, probably assessing his state. "You deserve a reward. Stand up."

Sherlock's knees were a little sore, making him realize he must have been kneeling for a while. Amazing how time faded when he was with John. He stood beside the bed, awaiting what John wanted next.

John crawled onto the covers, propping up in pillows to recline back comfortably. He laid on his back, his erection still tenting out his pants. Sherlock unknowingly licked his lips again, making John chuckle.

Reaching down, his hand went inside his pants, obviously holding that hard cock, and giving it a stroke. He groaned softly, watching Sherlock as he continued the slow motions. "You aren't allowed to touch yourself without permission, but it's a good thing I'm not under that rule. Do you know how many times I've thought about you and what I want to do to you the last few months?"

Sherlock shook his head. John's showers had been extra long all week, and Sherlock knew he was finding sexual release daily at least. While he had been aching for it the whole time.

"Let me see all of you, Sherlock. Take off your pants for me." John said firmly.

Sherlock rushed to obey, not used to taking off his boxers while erect, but soon kicked the material aside. He felt a bit embarrassed, standing naked and aroused before John.

"So perfect, Sherlock. Don't be shy." John soothed, and patted the bed beside him. "Lie down here."

Heart thumping with nerves, Sherlock did as directed, stretched out beside John.

John leaned in and gave Sherlock a long, deep kiss. "You have been so good. Time for your reward. I want you run your hands all over your body."

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up. "While you watch?"

Nodding slowly, John's smile was completely wicked. "Yes, my own little private show by my sexy sub. It's a reward for me too."

Feeling a little awkward, Sherlock ran his hand down his chest. He had never really touched his body much, beyond quickly washing in the shower. It was just transport.

But seeing John's eyes hungrily watching his motions, Sherlock relaxed back against the cushions and pushed aside his embarrassment. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on feeling his hands stroking over his skin, feeling the different textures, the slight scratch of his sparse body hair. John hadn't given him permission to touch his cock, so avoided it, even though he had been hard for so long.

He sunk into it, the peaceful state of simply flowing his dom's orders unquestioningly. It wasn't as deep as subspace, but it was sensual and timeless.

A gasp from John made him open his eyes to glance over. John was still watching Sherlock, his gaze heated. His hand was still in his pants.

Experimentally, Sherlock arched up on the bed, stroking along his hip, and watched the way John's eyes followed the motion, and his hand pumped a few times in his pants.

Sherlock groaned. "Please, John, let me watch you." He wanted to see his cock, thick and hard. Wanted to watch as John stroked it. Wanted to touch and pleasure him.

"My pants are staying on this time. You haven't earned that yet. But you have been good lately. You can touch yourself." John said, watching Sherlock closely.

Too aroused to feel shy, Sherlock wrapped his hand around himself, almost crying in relief at the sensation. He screwed his eyes tight, pumping hard and fast. This would probably only take seconds, he was so primed.

A small noise came from John, and Sherlock opened his eyes to see John stroking himself quickly, his hand moving fast under the fabric, his eyes on Sherlock's hand.

Panting, trying to catch his breath, Sherlock slowed his stroke, watching as John mirrored him. Lifting his ass off the bed, he fucked slowly into his fist, precum making his hand slide easily. John matched his speed.

Sherlock found it intensely erotic, having John follow his motions. He varied the speed, stroking hard and fast, almost cumming, and then slowing down, hardly touching himself at all. Would John cum when he did?

Sooner than he wanted, he couldn't hold back anymore. He pumped his cock hard, steady fast strokes, staring at John the whole time. Wanting to watch him at the peak too.

John came first, crying out and shaking against the bed. It was so erotic and intimate, it sent Sherlock over the edge. He moaned, the sensations almost overwhelming.

John was holding him, stroking his arm and shoulder, whispering encouraging words. "So beautiful, that's it baby, let it go..."

Sherlock sunk into his arms, breathing hard, his head spinning. He blinked up at John, just dazed by it all. He had never had an orgasm like that before in his whole life.

John chuckled, leaning down to plant soft kisses on his lips and face. "You did so well. I'm proud of you." His fingers dragged through the cooling semen on Sherlock's stomach, tracking wet fingertips over his skin. "So much. It must be from waiting so many days. Do you agree now that waiting makes it better?"

Sherlock made a bit of a face, trying to pull John's hand away. "Please, I'm a mess."

Lifting his hand, John held it to the light, watching as a dribble of fluid ran down his finger. He brought his hand to his face and flicked out his tongue, catching the droplet before it would fall.

"John!" Sherlock said, a bit shocked.

With a devilish smirk, John licked the whole finger clean with a stroke of his tongue, his eyes on Sherlock the whole time. "Mmmm you taste good."

He held out another wet fingertip towards Sherlock. "Want to taste?" His expression was daring Sherlock, pushing his limits.

It was dirty and nasty. Just plain wrong. But Sherlock found himself holding John's gaze as he leaned in and took the finger in his mouth, and sucked it clean. And felt rewarded at the flash of surprise and heat at his actions. He was learning what turned John on, and it was the best information to gather.

John chuckled, grabbed some tissues to clean up his hand and Sherlock's stomach. "You continually surprise me, but I love it. I thought we would simply touch a bit in the bed today, but you knelt so prettily, I couldn't resist going a bit further than I should have. And then, the way you took the reins, teasing me, edging me..." John shook his head, giving Sherlock a very warm look, "that was incredibly hot. You have a natural sexuality you are just discovering with me."

Sherlock was practically purring when John hugged him close, tucking against his side. He was still tingling from his orgasm, minutes later, the zing of pleasure hormones pumping through his body. Then there was the pleasure of being near John, basking in his praise and approval. The good sensations got linked with the smell of sex and the taste in his mouth, and he burrowed against John's neck.

Eventually, John stirred. "Time for me to shower. These wet briefs aren't comfortable for cuddling."

"Need any help? I could scrub your back?" Sherlock offered, feeling sleepy and lazy, but willing to help out if it meant touching John naked. And wet. And soapy.

Chuckling, John was out of bed and pulling the covers over Sherlock. "No, I can manage. Go to sleep." He leaned down for a goodnight kiss.

Sherlock's dreams were very sweet indeed.

XXX

\- Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Fanning myself... hmmm...haven't written that rating level for a while. Hope I did it OK. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

John chuckled, pulling away from Sherlock. "Come on, I'm trying to watch this." He looked back at the TV show.

Sherlock huffed, shifting to sit apart from John, and crossing his legs. He had already endured watching John work out in his undershirt and boxer-briefs, and had eaten dinner beside him, smelling all fresh from his shower. There was something about the scent of John's shower gel, shampoo and John himself that made Sherlock want to burrow in close.

Smelling it during dinner had started a low buzz of arousal. Sitting now with John, Sherlock had tried snuggling against John's side, kissing his neck, thinking the whole time how much he wanted John out of his clothes, stretched out of his bed, finally able to explore every part of him.

But John kept shifting away from Sherlock. Moving his hand away from his leg. He had only gotten a quick hello kiss when John got home, leaving his lips tingling, and letting out a whimper when John started his workout.

This was torture. John, so close, so tempting. But everything he did was rebuffed by the man.

John glanced his way with a bit of a smirk. "Oh, quit pouting. You say you have such a great deductive mind. I'm surprised you haven't figured things out."

The comment sent Sherlock off the sofa and pacing around the room, stopping occasionally to look back at John calmly watching his movie. His dom was right. He just needed to review everything.

Finally sitting in his armchair, Sherlock closed his eyes to sort it all out. He went over every word John had uttered, all their interactions, everything he knew about relationships and dating, which really wasn't that much.

John wasn't paying him much attention today, but he didn't seem to wanting to stop their relationship, such as it was. There were no signals of that. Previously, John had only gone on dates a few times a week, so maybe he just needed a break of a few days between encounters. Maybe he just wanted to wait a while, to drive Sherlock into a desperate state again. Looking back at John, he nodded, thinking the last idea was the most likely.

Maybe John didn't like Sherlock initiating sex. Maybe being a dom meant he called the shots. If so, was Sherlock simply to go about his normal life, waiting for John to pounce whenever he had the urge? Surely there was something Sherlock could do that would encourage John into action, like kneeling in front of him had triggered a more intense session than John seemed to have planned.

Sherlock thought about it, and came up with a few ideas.

* * *

The next night, Sherlock went into his bedroom when John got home. He stripped down to his briefs and slipped on a silk robe that left most of his chest showing.

The delivery order came, and Sherlock served up a couple plates and carried them into the living room, passing one to John. He sunk down on to the pillow in front of the sofa, and quietly ate his meal.

He felt very aware of John sitting so close, and sensed his gaze often, tracing over his body like a caress. The attention was a balm against John's behaviour the previous day. Sherlock allowed the robe's sash to become undone, showing even more skin.

They quietly watched the movie, and Sherlock almost moaned when John's hand came to rest on his shoulder, warm and heavy. He played with Sherlock's hair, and stroking the back of his neck, teasing caresses that Sherlock arched into.

But it never grew into more. Sherlock was fully hard, shifting restlessly against his pillow, knowing John was enjoying looking at him. Why wouldn't he touch more, do more?

The movie ended, and John stood up. He looked down at Sherlock, sitting still on his pillow, skin flushed with arousal. "Stand up, Sherlock." His voice had a raspy edge that told Sherlock he was affected too.

Scrambling to his feet, Sherlock stood before his dom, heart pounding.

"You deserve a goodnight kiss for behaving so well tonight. Show me that you have learned your lessons well." John said, his gaze falling to Sherlock's lips.

Placing a hand on John's shoulder, Sherlock leaned in, wanting hard, deep kisses but giving light ones instead. Brushing their lips together, nibbling and varying the pressure. Not losing himself in it, but focussing on John, and his reactions. Hearing his slight inhale, and deepening the kiss, knowing he was doing well when John tipped his face up for better access and shifted closer. Still keeping it light and playful until John was pushing closer, deepening it himself.

Satisfaction zinged through Sherlock when John dug his hand into his hair and took over the kiss, dominating it, and Sherlock happily surrendered to it. Now allowing himself to sink into it, savour it, blindly responding to John's deep kiss.

John broke it off, looking down at Sherlock's bare chest framed by the open silk robe. "Beautiful, so beautiful," he murmured, and traced light fingertips down from his collarbone to his navel.

Sherlock moaned at the light touch, tilting his head back and hoping for more. When it didn't come, he opened his eyes and looked at John questioningly.

Yanking Sherlock in for a quick, firm kiss, John smiled fondly at him. "Goodnight, Sherlock." He released him and was soon jogging up the stairs.

Shaking his head, Sherlock went into his own bedroom. He could still feel where John had touched his chest, the nerves tingling. His lips also felt sensitive, and he laid down on the bed, replaying everything in his head, still buzzed with arousal. It was getting to be a common feeling, a low grade hum in the background, attuned to John, always aware of John. Ready to zoom up with any scrap of attention from him.

With anyone else, he would have feared being so affected by another person. But he had read John, knew him, and trusted him. He wouldn't abuse his power over Sherlock. It was just a game of power, dabbling along Sherlock's limits, pushing at the boundaries, creeping forward to conquer more and more. On his own, Sherlock was still himself, still rude and brilliant. But around John, he was being shaped into someone new, John's perfect submissive.

* * *

John got home and found Sherlock freshly showered, wearing the tempting silk robe. Smiling, John stepped closer to deliver an enthusiastic hello kiss.

Sherlock's eyes seemed a rich olive green in the late afternoon light, and he looked excited and happy. "Let's go out for a nice dinner tonight."

It hadn't been too busy or tiring a day at the clinic, so John nodded. "Sure, that sounds good."

Sherlock nudged him towards the bathroom. "Go ahead and shower. I've already laid out clothes on your bed."

Chuckling at that, John followed the directions. Somebody had been making plans, it seemed, and he was curious where this would go.

The hot shower was refreshing and he considered taking care of his erection, a result of that hot kiss and how good Sherlock looked in that robe. Such delicious pale skin, his hair still damp. But he just finished up his shower instead.

An indigo dress shirt, and dark jeans were laid out on his bed, and John chuckled again as he slipped them on. He'd seen how Sherlock's eyes followed him when he wore this shirt, the colour bringing out his eyes. It was definitely a date outfit.

Sherlock jumped up from the sofa as he came downstairs, in a bespoke black suit and aubergine shirt that looked fantastic against his pale skin and dark hair.

It was a mild spring night, and Sherlock said the restaurant was nearby, so they walked in companionable silence. They had never gone out like this before.

The restaurant was a small Italian place, the owner greeting Sherlock warmly, and ushering them to his best table by the window.

"Anything on the menu, Sherlock, on the house, for you and your date." The large Italian man beamed, setting a lit candle onto the table.

Sherlock gave a warm look back. "John, this is Angelo."

Angelo shook John's hand enthusiastically. "Sherlock cleared my name of murder charges a few years ago."

Closing the menu, Sherlock looked at the restaurateur. "What would you recommend? This is a special night." He reached over and took John's hand.

Bemused, John glanced at their linked hands and the owner explaining an elaborate dish he would prepare just for them. Hmmm...Sherlock dressed up, the romantic restaurant, and he was trying to impress John. He was being wooed. With a smirk, he leaned back in his chair and sipped his water. Sherlock was playing with his fingers, stroking lightly along his palm.

"I'll have that." Sherlock nodded at Angelo.

Angelo collected the menus. "And for your boyfriend?"

John's lips gave a little twitch at the word. "Hmmm...chicken parmigiana."

Sherlock was giving him a concerned look as Angelo left. "Um...did you mind being called my boyfriend? I didn't tell him to say that or anything."

"It's alright, Sherlock." John gave his hand a little squeeze, to soothe him.

"I've never really had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend." Sherlock volunteered. He seemed trying to be more chatty than he normally was. Perhaps nervous about being on this 'date'?

John shrugged. "I haven't had one for a long time."

"Right. Okay. You're unattached...Like me." Sherlock looked uncomfortable, buttering a bread roll. "Good."

Watching his nervous motions, John's heart went out to him. Sherlock was an unusual man; attractive, intelligent and from a wealthy background. He came off as cocky initially, but John had seen how warm he was around Mrs. Hudson and now Angelo. Underneath the bravado was a socially awkward man, who didn't fit in well with most people, but hid it by acting distant. It must be lonely at times.

"Sherlock, um ... I think you should know that I have been casually dating people from online sites for a long time now. I haven't really been looking for anything..." John started, wanting to make things clearer.

Green eyes wide, Sherlock shook his head quickly. "No. No, I'm not asking...," pulling his hand away from John and seeming to sink back into his chair. "No."

Giving him a fond smile, John reached over and took Sherlock's hand back. "No, you didn't let me finish. I haven't been in an exclusive relationship with one person for a long, long time. I wasn't even looking for it, either." His fingers stroked over Sherlock's palm. "But here we are."

Sherlock gave him a look with a spark of hope and some heat. "Yes, flatmates who occasionally fool around."

Leaning in until their shoulders touched, John whispered in Sherlock's ear. "Hmmm...I would say we are more than that, wouldn't you?"

"Friends?" Sherlock said softly, giving a shiver at the sensation of John's warm breath on his neck.

Running a hand down Sherlock's back slowly, John planted a little kiss on his neck as a reward. "And what else...?"

Sherlock swallowed hard, "Um...I don't know, John." He had that delightfully distracted look that he got when he was aroused, and not thinking straight. A few days of teasing him had made it wonderfully easy to bring to this state.

Running the tip of his tongue along the edge of his earlobe, John chuckled wickedly when Sherlock gasped, leaning in closer for more. "I've tasted your cum, Sherlock. Wouldn't you say that makes us more than friends?"

Sherlock was saved from answering by the food arriving, Angelo chuckling from catching them apparently cuddling. He set down the plates, refilled their wine glasses and went on his way.

John enjoyed his meal, eating delicious food by candlelight with a smart and funny man that he was intensely attracted to. If this wasn't a date, he didn't know what was.

* * *

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	10. Chapter 10

John pressed kisses along Sherlock's jaw, nuzzling into his ear. His breath was warm against his skin, and Sherlock panted at the sensation. John's hands were lazily stroking up and down Sherlock's back, light caresses, like he had all the time in the world.

Whining softly, Sherlock shifted so his legs were between John's, their hips pressed together. It was amazing to feel John's hardness against his own, even through all the fabric, and he rotated his hips to grind a little. He was breathing fast, and he felt flushed. Too warm, although he'd already taken off his suit jacket.

By contrast, John was breathing more normal, looking slightly aroused but nowhere as desperate as Sherlock was. He seemed to have no desire to go beyond this wonderful make-out session, kissing and touching lightly, clothes staying on.

Lying on top of John, Sherlock had felt a sense of victory at being able to tuck between John's legs. To feel John's erection pressing against his stomach had sent a spiral of lust, pure wanting, through him. He wanted so badly to unzip John's jeans and push aside his pants. Stroke and explore his cock, watch John in his pleasure, watch him come apart under Sherlock's touch.

But so far, John hadn't even let Sherlock undo a button of his shirt, or tug his shirt up to touch the bare skin of his back.

After the dinner, they had continued to hold hands as they walked back to the flat, Sherlock feeling a bit giddy from just doing that. When John had kissed him and drawn him down onto the sofa, he had eagerly followed him.

John was extremely good at kissing, and that alone for the past twenty minutes was getting Sherlock extremely hot and bothered. He needed more, more, more.

"You have learned your lessons well, Sherlock. You are a much better kisser than you used to be." John said, with a satisfying roughness to his voice.

Sherlock smiled at the compliment. He had gotten better at varying things up, noticing when John did something different and copying it, adding it to his repertoire. He noticed what he liked himself, and catalogued what John responded to, seeing how different they were. Sherlock was very sensitive around his ears, and having John suck and bite his earlobe was almost orgasmic. John had a place lower on his neck that seemed his preferred spot, arching against Sherlock's lips for more. It was incredible seeing his dom enjoying his caresses so much. So hot.

He enjoyed the contact and attention, but his baseline hum of arousal had been simmering at a higher level since they held hands at dinner, only to be now at maximum levels for quite a while. His cock was throbbing, and pressing it against John's was doing nothing to ease the ache.

"John, please, please...," he broke off a kiss to beg softly, giving John beseeching eyes.

Smiling slowly, John pushed Sherlock's hair back. "What do you want?"

Burying his face against John's neck, he planted a few kisses there. "More, can we please do more?"

"Mmmmm...but I like this. After such a heavy meal, isn't it nice to just make-out? You smell so good, and I like feeling your weight on top of me." John said, hugging Sherlock tightly, stroking his back.

Sherlock looked down at John and sighed. He could see there was no changing his mind. Shifting down a little, he made sure his cock wasn't pressing against John anymore and tried to just relax and enjoy being in John's arms.

After a few minutes, the surge of desire had faded back down a bit. He drifted along, feeling John's hands on his back, his warmth, his scent. The thump of his heart, steady and sure under his ear. Daringly, he lifted a hand to John's hair, running his fingers through the short, silky strands like John so often did for him. He was rewarded with a pleased purr, and John leaning into his touch.

He didn't sink into subspace, his senses too full of John to lose a second of it.

XXX

The next few days were like that, Sherlock cuddling against John as much as possible, but rarely getting more than a few kisses. He was finding it hard to concentrate, fantasies of doing more with John running in a loop in his head.

His phone beeped, and he looked at the text, and then put his phone back on the coffee table.

John chuckled. "Who is texting you?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Just Lestrade. Double murder." He sunk against John's side, kissing his neck.

Sitting up, John gave a disbelieving laugh. "What are you doing here then? Go!"

Shaking his head, Sherlock tried to pull John back against him. "No, they'll be fine without me. Come back."

He whined slightly when instead John jumped off the sofa, staring down at his flatmate. "You are going, and that's that." His eyes were flashing, and Sherlock felt a stir of admiration at John like that.

Sighing, Sherlock got up. "Fine. I'll make an appearance there. But I'll be back soon, so don't make other plans. I want to continue where we left off as soon as possible."

John walked over to the door and pulled his coat on. "I'm going with you. Let's go."

Shocked, Sherlock scrambled into his big ass coat, pulling the collar up and racing down the stairs. Here was a chance to impress John, show him another side of Sherlock, show-off a little. His heart thumped in excitement.

They hopped into a taxi and got to the scene quickly. It was behind a run-down warehouse, with no people around in the drizzling weather except police officers, their faces illuminated by the flashing red and blue lights from their vehicles.

Sherlock went to the yellow crime scene tape, and the officer let them both in. He lead them to a slim man with salt and pepper hair, holding a black umbrella.

"Lestrade, this is a colleague, Dr. John Watson. He's with me." Sherlock said, nodding towards John.

Intelligent brown eyes scanned over John quickly, and the man gave a quick nod. He ran over the case quickly and then Sherlock was off, exploring the scene, not seeming to mind the weather. Completely focussed.

Lestrade chuckled, watching Sherlock, and glanced over at John. "Have you known him long?"

John lifted the collar of his coat, regretting not bringing an umbrella as cold rain dribbled down his neck. "Not that long, but we know each other pretty well."

Lifting his eyebrows in surprise, Lestrade gave John a closer look. "Is that so? Few claim that of Sherlock, in my experience. I've known the bloke five years, and I wouldn't say I know him that well."

Looking back at the mad berk crouching down near the corpses, John shook his head. Sherlock was an unusual man, and it seemed that many didn't appreciate him the way they should.

"Look, you are getting soaked. Come stand under here while you wait." Lestrade invited, lifting the umbrella a little.

John grinned at him. "Ta, that's much better." He had to step pretty close to avoid the rain dropping off the edge of the umbrella.

"Are you a medical doctor then?" Lestrade asked, his dark eyes assessing.

Nodding, John looked closer at the taller man. He was quite attractive, likely about five years older than John. "Yes. I was an army doctor for years, but I work in a clinic here now. Have you been with the Yard long?"

"Yes, living the dream." Lestrade smirked, glancing around them. "Dead bodies, getting soaked in the rain, and then hours of paperwork."

"Why do you message Sherlock on cases?" John was trying to understand how they came to work together.

Shrugging, Lestrade watched as Sherlock growled at one of the police officer who was in his way. "Well, it's not for his delightful personality! His insight into the cases is worth the trouble he stirs up."

The man in question was suddenly standing in front of them, scowling at how close Lestrade was to his flatmate. "John, would you take a look at the woman?"

"Um, sure...," he glanced at Lestrade, and didn't sense any objection from him.

Following Sherlock, he squatted near the woman, and looked closely when Sherlock lifted her limp arm with his latex gloved hand. "What do you think of those marks?"

John took out his phone and put on the flashlight for a brighter view. He looked over her skin, and peered closer at her nails. "Raindrop pigmentation and Mees' lines, but signs like this take years to show." He had seen similar symptoms in Afghanistan, in some locals.

Nodding, Sherlock stood up, and John followed him. "Come on, then." His tone was a bit sharp, and he wasn't meeting John's eyes.

Curious, John walked with him back to Lestrade.

"Married couple. He was slowly poisoning her with arsenic, likely convincing her that the symptoms were just normal aging. I think a close friend or family member confronted him with the truth, and it turned bloody." Sherlock rattled off. "I'm thinking a protective brother or young uncle, perhaps."

Lestrade was making notes on his mobile. "Arsenic? Really?"

Sherlock turned towards John, waving encouragingly.

"Um, yes..." John cleared his throat. "Chronic exposure to arsenic show in a spotty skin pigmentation, and white stripes across the nails. Many poorer countries have arsenic contaminating the groundwater, and locals are affected. In the U.K., it must have been added to her food or beverages for several years."

"Hence her husband. Who else would have had motive and means?" Sherlock drawled, glancing John's way.

Lestrade seemed impressed. "Motive?"

"She comes from money. He married her for it, and decided to poison her slowly to get access to it." Sherlock said, sighing like it was obvious.

John shared a smirk with Lestrade, which Sherlock caught, scowling again.

"We'll get toxicology reports on them both and search their residence for the source of the poison." Lestrade nodded at them both. "Thank you, Sherlock. And you as well, Dr. Watson."

"John. Call me John." He smiled at the investigator, sensing he was a kindred spirit from their short time together.

The older man held out his hand, and John shook it. "Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. Say, would you two like to grab a coffee around the corner? Dry out a bit?"

Sherlock huffed, grabbing John by the arm and dragging him away. "No. You've taken up enough of our night as it is. Goodnight, Lestrade."

John glared at Sherlock when they flagged down a taxi a block away, and climbed into the back. "That was unnecessarily rude, Sherlock."

The tall git was unapologetic, just shrugging and staring moodily out of the window. It was darker out now, and the streetlights highlighted the moisture on his skin and his curls. He seemed unaware of it.

John shook his head, putting what he learned about Sherlock tonight together with what he already knew. He had a deeper appreciation for his intelligence, noticing the woman's symptoms even though it wasn't the cause of death. The police officers likely saw a wealthy couple stabbed in an unsavory part of town, and that was it.

It was interesting seeing how Sherlock interacted with people he worked with, as well. Although he seemed to respect Lestrade to some extent, he didn't seem to have any regard for the other officers.

XXX

Back at the flat, Sherlock was still moody, towelling off and sprawling on the sofa. John chuckled to himself as he passed him a big mug of tea. "Drink this. It will warm you up."

Sherlock sent him a sidelong glance, and drank the beverage fast, setting the mug down with a thunk. It was like being around an emo teen, and John had had enough of it.

He set down his own mug. "Sherlock, do you remember the day you first kissed me, and insisted you could meet my needs? We set down rules that day. Do you recall them?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "The first rule of Fight Club is you don't talk about Fight Club."

John let out a surprised laugh. "Um...how do you know that line? I didn't think you watched movies."

Sherlock shrugged. "I went undercover into a Fight Club for a while, for a case."

The images that brought up had John just shaking his head. A topic to explore more another time.

"Do you remember our rules or not? Do you need me to say them?"

Green eyes met and held John's. "No cumming without your permission. Obeying you without hesitation. Safe wording."

John sat up taller, looking down at his sub, feeling satisfied when Sherlock naturally shifted on the sofa in response to it. He drew his limbs in, sitting straighter. "You forgot a couple; that we will take things slowly, and you won't try to rush things."

"Did you forget my condition also? That we are exclusive? It didn't appear that we were tonight. Every time I looked at you, you were practically cuddled against Lestrade, hanging off his every word. I bet you wanted to go to the cafe with him, didn't you?" Sherlock snapped.

Hmmmm...jealous much? John chuckled to himself at Sherlock's reaction. He hadn't even been flirting with Lestrade, just friendly.

"And how did it make you feel, seeing me like that, apparently bending our rules?" John purred, shifting a little closer.

Sherlock pouted, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "I didn't like it."

Now pressed against Sherlock's side, John took one of his hands, playing with his long fingers. "And I don't like it when you try to bend my rules either. You have been pushing things, trying to rush."

Sherlock huffed impatiently. "So, you are going to start dating other people if I don't follow your rules?"

Reaching out, John cupped the side of Sherlock's face, looking down at him. "Perhaps it's time to check in here. It's been a few weeks now. Do you want to continue this with me? Are you happy?"

"How can you even ask that?" Sherlock shook his head. "I want you constantly. I'm sexually frustrated, but can't imagine going back to just being flatmates."

John nodded. "I can't imagine that either. I want you so much too."

Giving a needy whine, Sherlock was no longer moody and distant. He pressed against John. "Then can we please, please, please just have sex? Why are we waiting so long?"

Running his fingers through his wet curls, John made sure there was a bit of a tug in his caress. Heat bloomed in Sherlock's eyes at the sensation and John couldn't resist clenching his fist into that thick hair and lowering his face to his sub's for a hard, greedy kiss. Nothing held back.

By the time he pulled back, Sherlock's eyes were darker with arousal and he was breathing quickly. "We are taking things slow because we are taking you from being 'AlmostAVirgin' to being a perfect sub for me. You have a lot to learn, Sherlock, about sex and relationships, and you are doing so well so far. I am proud of you."

The praise made Sherlock glow, and lean into John. "I'm ready for more, John. I want you so much. Your pace is too slow. Please." He planted small kisses against John's neck.

John shook his head. "You aren't ready yet, Sherlock. What if I gave you an order right now, told you to run up to my room, strip, and get yourself ready? Ready for me to come up those stairs, and fuck you into the mattress all night? Use you as my perfect little fuck toy?"

The words caused a strong reaction in Sherlock. A surge of heat, but followed by a flash of uncertainty, and some fear. And Sherlock pulling in, pulling back a little.

John released his hold on Sherlock's hair, and gathered his sub into his arms. "You are wonderful, Sherlock, but you have to trust me here. I'm more experienced in sex than you are, and I can tell what you are ready for. I wouldn't order something like that from you until I know it was something you wanted too. Desperately."

The cuddling and stroking along his back was relaxing Sherlock. He looked at John, most of the fear gone from his expression. "Will I ever get there, John? Will I ever fully satisfy you? You must find it incredibly dull, dabbling in simple kisses and touches when you are used to sexually experienced partners."

John kissed him, soft and slowly, stroking his back. "I find every minute with you fascinating, Sherlock. You are being so brave and trusting, and I love seeing you learning about your sexuality. It's so hot, believe me. It's why we are taking it slow, letting you learn all these fundamental parts. How to kiss, how to touch. Finding out what you like, as well as what I like."

"I know I like you, John, a lot." Sherlock said softly, his green eyes showing his vulnerability. He had been through a lot of emotions tonight, and John hugged him hard.

"I like you a lot too, Sherlock." John said into his neck. It was still amazing that they had found each other, from such a strange beginning. "So, do you agree to continuing as we have been? Except you stop trying to rush me?"

Sherlock let out a dramatic huff. "Oh, I suppose so. You can keep me your desperate sub, ready for you to toy with whenever you have a whim to. As long as you promise to stop flirting with Lestrade."

"Deal." John kissed Sherlock lightly to seal it. He stretched, feeling a little sleepy. He looked down at his sub. "What would you say to sleeping in the same bed tonight?"

With wide eyes, Sherlock looked up at him. "Together? Just sleeping?"

Nodding, John leaned in to kiss Sherlock lightly. "Maybe some cuddling and slow kisses. Clothes staying on." He just wanted to hold Sherlock close all night.

And his brave sub nodded, looking excited and a little nervous. It was the perfect next step for them. Taking it little by little.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock woke up to John shifting against him, and realized his erotic dream was actually reality. In his dream, he had been grinding against John in a nightclub, the music loud, the surroundings dark, except for colorful flashing lights, illuminating the writhing dancers surrounding them.

Waking up, they weren't in a nightclub, but in Sherlock's bed. It was quiet and they were alone. But John was in his arms, grinding his ass back against Sherlock's hard cock. That part was exactly like the dream.

Gasping at the sensation, Sherlock cuddled even closer along John's back, feeling how warm he was in sleep. Was John dreaming too? Was Sherlock his partner in it?

Pressing his lips to the back of John's neck, he tried to keep from peaking from the pressure against his erection. It had been days since he had last had an orgasm. He was panting, knowing he should move away, stop this delicious torture before it was too late, but couldn't resist it.

His arms were around John, and Sherlock slid his hands along his bare chest. It had been so good last night, both stripped down to their briefs, getting into bed and kissing softly before they went to sleep. John had let him stroke over his bare back, mapping it out under his fingertips.

Now, he did the same with his chest, moving his focus to John to keep from orgasming. His mouth continued kiss, licking, nibbling on his nape, tasting his skin.

He missed the exact moment when John woke up, but soon realized John had stopped grinding back on to Sherlock. _Oh Shit! Was John going to accuse him of rushing things again? Would he be punished?_

His breath caught when John took his hand, expecting him to move it away. But instead, he slid it downwards, right into his briefs. John's hard, bare cock was in his hand. Without a word, John started moving again, grinding his ass back against Sherlock, rubbing his cock against his hand.

Moaning, Sherlock closed his eyes, just soaking it all in. He stroked along John, feeling how thick and hard he was, already wet with precum. Rubbing his palm over the tip, Sherlock felt John shudder against him at the sensation, and repeated it. Discovering by trial and error what John reacted to the most, his little moans, motions and gasps feeding the fire of Sherlock's desire.

He could tell John was getting close, and he was as well. Should he move back, to keep from being too aroused? Or should he just let it happen, and ask for forgiveness after?

His programming overrode his desire, and he shifted his hips back from John, still kissing his neck and stroking his cock. Wanting to feel his dom's pleasure more than anything.

John whined at the loss of Sherlock grinding against him. "Come back, Come back..."

"It's too much, John." Sherlock panted.

John shifted back until his ass was against Sherlock's erection again. "It's good. Cum for me." His voice was rough and breathless.

Those words sent a surge through Sherlock, and he sunk into it. Grinding against John's ass desperately, biting and kissing his neck, stroking his cock hard. Just wanting to cum together, share this.

His orgasm hit first, long hard pulses of his cock, making him cry out. John quickly followed, shuddering against Sherlock, his whole body arched tight against him, moaning.

It felt like minutes later when John chuckled, rolling onto his back and looking up at a dazed Sherlock. He reached up to push his messy hair of his face, and urged him down for some slow kisses.

"Mmmm, that was a great way to wake up." John arched his back, stretching, a big smile on his face and his eyes twinkling.

Finally getting his breath back, Sherlock reluctantly let go of John's softening cock, and slid his hand out of his pants. His palm left a smear of cum along John's stomach, and Sherlock lifted his hand, peering at the wetness lingering there.

With a glance at John, he took a long slow lick at his hand, closing his eyes to savor it. When he opened them, he could see the way John was closely watching him. His dom liked that, he could tell. Holding his eyes, he licked the rest of his hand clean, and leaned down daringly to lap at the smear on his chest.

John chuckled, pushing him back. "Enough, enough. I've let you get away with enough today."

Feeling blissed out and happy, Sherlock laid back against the pillows, licking his lips. "You taste better than I do. I want to feel you cumming in my mouth, against my tongue."

John cuddled against his side. "Hmmm, I never thought I'd hear you saying something like that to me. Have you really changed so much in such a short time?"

Scoffing, Sherlock shifted to be closer. "You planted the idea in my head from the first day we met. Do you know how many times I've fantasized about sucking you off? Probably every day since then, many times each day."

"Oh really?" John said softly, stroking along Sherlock's shoulder.

Hmmm...maybe he could plant the idea in John's head, make his fantasy repeat and repeat in his head until John couldn't resist making it reality.

"I imagine licking you slowly, feeling you getting harder against my tongue. Sucking on the tip while you watch, feeling you slid along my tongue, filling my mouth up so well. Feeling your hands urging me on as I move my head, finding the best speed. Tasting you, wanting to see the pleasure on your face as I take every drop." Sherlock said, easily describing a scene he had imagined so often. Now he knew how John tasted, and felt, adding that into the fantasy.

He was rewarded by many minutes of deep kissing, sinking into it with his dom, before they eventually got up to clean themselves up.

* * *

Things went smoother between them after that, Sherlock settling more into the mindset of being John's sub. He eagerly returned John's kisses and caresses, but didn't push for more. He got back into working, seeing that it pleased John, and found it good to get back to his normal routines.

The shift in thinking was in knowing that they liked each other, and felt comfortable in the way their relationship was growing. Knowing the other person liked where it was going too. It gave them freedom to let things develop at their own speed. A bad day wasn't going to end things between them.

Sherlock became even more attuned to John, trying to be a good sub. John had once said that he was naturally good at being a sub, since he was intuitive. He could anticipate John's needs. Sherlock worked at doing just that.

He made sure there was milk in the fridge for John's tea. He played him slow songs on the violin when he had a hard day at the office. He even bought some expensive silicon-based lube and left it in the shower for John.

John rewarded him with frequent praise and warm kisses. They often made out for hours, cuddling on the sofa.

Sherlock realized that this was their new normal. This was how things would be between them, most of the time. Living together, eating together, spending their free time together. Sharing the mundane day-to-day stuff.

Underneath it all, there was always still that buzz of awareness between them. It sparked whenever John praised Sherlock for a submissive behavior, like sitting on his floor pillow, and responding so sensually to John's caresses of his neck and hair. Their gaze met and held with every order John gave, and sent a surge of warmth through Sherlock when he obeyed. The little sparks between them piled up, bursting into flames every few days, only to start building up again.

* * *

"John, come into my bedroom." Sherlock said one night after supper, dressed in only his silk robe.

Relaxing with a glass of red wine and his favorite Billy Wilder movie, John felt a bit irritated at the interruption. Also, Sherlock's request sounded a little like an order.

Still, it was unusual and it piqued John's curiosity. Turning off the DVD, He set down his glass and got up, stretching.

Entering the bedroom, John chuckled at the scene laid out before him. The bed was covered with a different sheet than normal, and there were a couple candles lit as the only light source. Chopin piano concertos were playing softly from Sherlock's laptop. John tilted his head slightly to one side. "Um…what is all this?" He liked surprises, and it was even more impressive that Sherlock had done it without him noticing, being flatmates and all.

Sherlock stood before him. "I have noticed lately that you seem a little stiff in your injured shoulder, and I thought you might like a massage." He gave a little smile, the look in his eyes a little excited, but also a little unsure.

John nodded, pleased. "Hmmm…you are right about my shoulder. I shouldn't be surprised that you would notice, you see so much. But a massage? By you?"

Lifting his hands to the hem of John's t-shirt, he pulled it upwards. "Come on, give it a try." Sherlock cajoled, slipping off John's jeans as well, leaving him in only his black boxer-briefs before he could even object. "There. We don't want any massage oil to get on your clothes."

He waved John towards the bed, and he crawled onto it, lying in the center on his stomach. With his head turned to the side, he watched as Sherlock slipped the robe off, wearing only boxers now as well. He laid a towel on the side of the bed, and a vial on top of it.

Sherlock got on the bed, and shifted over to John. He straddled his lower back, shifting to be comfortable, and John almost moaned at the close contact. He was attuned now to be aroused, just being near Sherlock.

Pouring oil onto his hands, Sherlock rubbed them together, and then ran them down the length of John's back. He enjoyed the slippery feel, the large hands running down his skin, and then back up towards his neck again. Sherlock moved his hands lightly over all of John's back, covering it well with the oil. John could smell it now, a light scent with notes of vanilla, chocolate and cinnamon.

He really started to knead into John's sore shoulder next, pressing his thumbs in circular motions, seeking out stiffness, and working it out. His touch was firm, but not painful. There was one more sensitive spot, but Sherlock seemed to notice John stiffening up as he worked on it, and eased off.

After the shoulder, he worked on John's neck and other shoulder, treating them to the firm kneading and light strokes. It was very relaxing, and made John feel well cared for. Cherished. The strokes went down his arms, and to his lower back, until John felt almost ready to sleep.

"Would you like to roll over? I can work on your shoulder from the front as well." Sherlock asked.

Nodding, John rolled over, and Sherlock settled onto him again. This position was much more sensual, with Sherlock's ass nudging against John's hard cock as he rocked with the motions of his massage. John closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of Sherlock's hands working on this shoulder, easing the stiffness away.

But it was too distracting, having his sub sitting on top of him, both of them dressed so scantily. He opened his eyes, and watched Sherlock. His eyes were focused on his task, stroking John's slick skin, but John could see the heat in them. Glancing down, Sherlock's boxers were tented out.

"This oil smells nice. Can I see the bottle?" John asked softly.

Sherlock paused, and passed the vial to John.

"Hmmm…." John looked over the label, and then glanced at Sherlock. "Is there a reason why you bought an edible massage oil?"

Sherlock's eyes darted away, and he looked a little embarrassed. "I just wanted it to be safe, if I happened to kiss my way down your body after I massaged you."

John smirked at the phrasing. "'Just happened to kiss down my body'?"

Shrugging, Sherlock tried to take the bottle back, but John held tight. "I want you to feel good, John. That was my only intention. But surely you know if you want more than a massage, I've very willing."

Glancing down at Sherlock's boxers, John chuckled. "Hmmmm…I noticed." He looked back up at his sub, an idea occurring to him. "Have you heard of a 'Happy Ending' to a massage?"

Shifting against him, John could tell Sherlock was getting even more aroused. "Um, yes, I have. Would you like one?" He licked his lips, his eyes darkening a little.

"Actually, I'd like you to slip off those boxers and I will give you one. Consider it a tip for giving me such a good massage tonight." John said softly, gathering the towel closer.

Sherlock scrambled off him, and was soon naked. He was clearly ready for this step, eager for it. John motioned for him to climb back to his previous position, straddling John.

John looked his fill, his eyes going from the green, glittering eyes, to his parted full lips, and his flushed skin. His cock was very hard, and shiny with precum. Pouring oil into his hands, John stroked Sherlock from base to tip, getting him slick. Sherlock closed his eyes, his breathing already picking up from the simple caress.

Using a variety of strokes, John had Sherlock trembling above him in a couple minutes. When his other slick hand cupped his balls, squeezing gently and stroking, Sherlock moaned loudly, looking down at John in surprise at the sensation.

John continued pleasuring him with both hands, loving how responsive Sherlock was. "You look so good, Sherlock. I want to see you cum…" John said softly, seeing what a little dirty talk would do. The response was Sherlock rocking into John's hands, his breathing getting faster. "Mmmmm yes….I bet you have so much cum for me…. it's been days since you came last. Are you going to coat my whole chest with it? Mmmmm…I want it…"

The words seemed to trigger Sherlock. "Yes, yes….," he moaned, shuddering helplessly against John as he peaked. His cock shot hard three times, cum spreading out over most of John's chest, leaving him shaking and panting.

Breathing hard himself, John rubbed his hand through the warm thick fluid. He loved it, playing with it. "Mmmm so much…"

Sherlock rolled to the side, still breathing hard, and let out a chuckle as he watched John. He picked up the towel, rubbing it over his chest to mop it up.

"Stop that and kiss me." John said, stilling his hand.

Obeying eagerly, Sherlock leaned close to kiss his dom. He could tell from the way John kissed him that he was still very turned on, and enjoyed it.

John backed off, looking at Sherlock fondly. "That was so hot. Don't be so quick to try to wipe up your cum. I love it, find it sexy."

"Really?" Sherlock asked, clearly not understanding that. He had only quickly mopped up his ejaculate when he masturbated on his own, and had used condoms with his past lovers.

Nodding, John kissed him firmly. "Good sex is messy and dirty. Don't be afraid to get sweaty and get cum everywhere. I like you uninhibited and just savoring it all. Feeling your cum on my skin, smelling and tasting it. It's all part of sex for me."

Sherlock nodding, thinking about how John had reacted when Sherlock had tasted his cum, and knew it was something he liked.

* * *

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Thanks for all the reads & comments & kudos. I'm happy you are enjoying the story so far.

-Massage Oil: Sherlock uses Kama Sutra's Oil of Love Kissable in Original flavor. It's water soluble, so safe with condoms and washes away easily.


	12. Chapter 12

John woke up, feeling good. The ache in his shoulder was gone, thanks to the massage. It was wonderful knowing he could ask Sherlock for massages in the future to help with stiffness. Plus it had felt so relaxing.

He showered for work, having a lazy wank because he had time for it. As he stroked, he pondered what the next step with Sherlock should be. He was good at kissing and touching now. Maybe it was time to introduce oral sex?

The speed of his strokes speed up at that. He could go down on Sherlock first, show him the techniques, how to use both hands and his mouth for pleasure. Or maybe he should finally just order Sherlock to strip him naked, seeing his cock for the first time, and lie back. Give no instructions and see what Sherlock did on his own.

Picturing Sherlock kissing all over his chest while stroking his cock brought John to orgasm, and he braced himself against the tiled shower wall while he caught his breath.

 _Mmmmm soon. Soon, they would have to make that a reality._

* * *

Getting home from work later, the apartment was quiet and empty. John checked his phone for a message from Sherlock and there wasn't one. He must have gotten busy with a case.

John shrugged, and made chicken curry for dinner. He ended up storing Sherlock's portion in the fridge, for him to reheat later. There was still no messages from him.

Everything OK, Sherlock? - J

He sent the message, hoping for a reply soon, just to know where Sherlock was.

By the time he got ready for bed, there was still nothing.

* * *

When he woke up, the apartment was still empty and no messages on his phone.

He called the Yard. "DI Lestrade, please."

They were soon connected. "Lestrade."

"Hi. This is John Watson." He scrambled for the right word to describe their relationship. Was Sherlock out at work? Even if he was, John could hardly say that he was his lover or dom. Boyfriend didn't feel quite right either.

There was a pause at the other end. "Oh right, Sherlock's...colleague."

John sighed in relief that the DI remembered him. "Well, we are actually flatmates and he didn't come home last night. I want to make sure he's OK."

He could hear some papers being shuffled around. "Oh, really? We didn't talk yesterday at all. The toxicology report came out a couple days ago, and I gave Sherlock a copy of it. Molly is doing an autopsy."

"Molly?" John asked.

Lestrade chuckled. "She works in the morgue at Bart's, and Sherlock is always hanging around there, flirting with her to get body parts for his experiments."

Oh, so that's where he got the items in their kitchen. John had mostly ignored that, and Sherlock had been better at keeping things tidy since becoming John's sub.

"Can you give me her number? Maybe she knows where he is." John said softly.

Lestrade texted him the information. "There you go. Keep me in the loop on this, OK? Sherlock has been known to run off on his own during a case, following some obscure lead, and doesn't always consider that it could be dangerous."

That was hardly reassuring. A tight feeling of dread was growing in John's stomach.

"I'll let you know what I find out." John said before making his goodbyes.

* * *

John spoke with Molly, but she didn't have much information. Sherlock had been at the morgue a couple days ago, studying the bodies from the case. Her autopsy had shown chronic arsenic exposure in the woman, but not in her husband.

Where had Sherlock gone? Did he find some clue and run off to investigate it, without telling anyone? He was chasing after a double murderer, after all.

John messaged the info back to Lestrade. Still no messages from Sherlock.

* * *

By the time he got home from work and still found the apartment empty, John was extremely worried.

He called Lestrade, but there was no news. "Can we put out a missing person report?"

Lestrade agreed and got it in motion. He sounded concerned as well, and it didn't do anything to calm John.

* * *

John couldn't settle down. He paced around the apartment, looked through Sherlock's things for a clue to where he went, checked his phone constantly.

Mrs. Hudson came up with a tray of tea. "Sit down, John, and have a cuppa. I heard you pacing around."

John took a few deep breaths as he sipped the warm beverage. "Is there anyone else to check with? I know Sherlock doesn't have a big circle of friends. What about his family?"

Mrs. Hudson nodded. "He doesn't see his parents much, and his relationship with his brother is rather strained."

"Brother?" This was the first John was hearing about him.

"An older brother, Mycroft. He is supposedly quite important in the government. I find him to be an insufferable git." Mrs. Hudson sniffed dismissively.

John nodded. "Could you call him, let him know what is happening? Maybe he has some connections that could help."

Mrs. Hudson nodded, getting up. She rested a hand on John's good shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. "I'm sure Sherlock is OK. That man is like a cat. I swear he has nine lives. He always seems to get out of trouble unscathed."

"I hope that's still the case." John patted her hand, glad to have the support.

* * *

He couldn't sleep that night, thinking of all sorts of horrible possibilities. Was Sherlock lying injured or dead somewhere? Had he been kidnapped by an old enemy? Was he off on some secret mission in a different country, unraveling a crime network? The ideas got crazier and more far-fetched as the night wore on.

Lestrade said they couldn't trace his phone. It was likely turned off or the battery had run out.

John laid on the sofa, knowing he would just toss and turn in his own bed. Exhausted, he eventually moved to Sherlock's bed, hugging the pillow close to smell the lingering scent there. He managed a fitful sleep.

* * *

The door creaked as it opened, and John jumped out of bed, running to the living room.

It was still dark, but the shadowy figure standing there was instantly recognizable.

"Sherlock..." John gasped, his heart pounding and his legs shaky as he went to his side.

He was filthy and not standing very straight, and John's military training kicked in, sensing he was in bad shape.

"It's OK now...you're home, you're safe. Let me take care of you." John wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting him along one side. It was alarming when Sherlock leaned into him heavily. "Let's get you to the bathroom. Clean and patch you up."

In the harsh bathroom light, it was clear that Sherlock was covered in dried mud and leaves. John worked his clothes off, dropping them on the floor. There was dried blood here and there, but it looked like it was from superficial cuts. He had some deep bruises.

Sherlock was hardly aware of all this, clearly exhausted, and barely able to lean against the sink as John undressed him.

John ran a bath, and eased Sherlock into it. It was a relief to see the injuries were superficial. Marks on his wrists and ankles showed he had been tied up at some point, and John had a thousand questions. Sherlock was too worn out by his ordeal to ask them now.

Drying him off, John disinfected the scrapes before bandaging them.

"Do you want some food, some tea, paracetamol?" John asked as they shuffled slowly to Sherlock's bedroom.

Sherlock shook his head, sinking into the bed. He still looked so different than normal, his hair a damp mess from John towel drying it as best as he could. He was unshaven and tired looking, some small scrapes and bruises on his face as well.

John tucked him in, and fetched the painkillers and a bottle of water to leave on the bedside table, in case he wanted them when he woke up.

Sherlock was already in an exhausted sleep. And as John looked down at his bedraggled flatmate, relief finally sunk in. Sherlock was home. Sherlock was safe.

Exhaustion hit John then, the worry and sleeplessness of the last few days catching up to him. Stripping off his dirty clothes, John slipped under the covers and cuddled up behind Sherlock, holding him tight.

* * *

John woke up, still groggy, but feeling better. Sherlock was still sleeping beside him, hardly moved at all during the night.

Planting a kiss on the back of his neck, John eased out of bed, not wanting to disturb him.

He made tea and messaged everyone that Sherlock had got home safe and was resting, thanking them all for their help and support. He didn't know what had happened yet to give them anymore information.

He ate some toast, and thought of taking some to Sherlock, but he likely wouldn't wake up for a while. John spread butter and jam on a scone instead, and left it beside the water bottle.

He called into work, saying he wasn't feeling well. It wasn't a complete lie. He was still quite tired and worn out from it all. Luckily, he had the next couple days off and should be OK by Monday. A weekend to make sure Sherlock was alright.

Settling down on the sofa, he found that he was sleepy again, feeling too lazy to go back to the bed. He'd just have a nap here, and leave the bed to Sherlock to sleep undisturbed.

* * *

A noise woke him up later, and John sat up, stretching. It was late afternoon now.

Getting up, he went to Sherlock's bedroom. The bed was empty, the plate empty except for some crumbs, and the painkiller bottle moved to a different spot. He was glad Sherlock was up and eating now.

He heard sounds from the bathroom, and turned when the door opened. Sherlock looked a lot better, his eyes alert when they locked on John's.

Something clicked inside John, and Sherlock must have seen it because in a few strides of his long legs he was standing right in front of John. Reaching up with both hands, John tilted Sherlock's head to the perfect angle, taking his lips in a hard, desperate kiss. The tall man gasped against his mouth, and returned the kiss just as hungrily.

The kisses continued, one blending into the next. John couldn't get enough. With a bit of growl, he pushed Sherlock hard, making him fall back onto the bed with a surprised oomph. He crawled over the supine man, straddling his hips to grind together as the kisses got deeper and harder.

Sherlock's hands were on his back, pulling him closer, kissing down John's neck. "Yes, yes…John…," he moaned, when John flicked his tongue along the edge of his ear.

Sitting up a little, John looked down at the man beneath him, the man he had been so scared of losing. A man who had become so incredibly important to him, in such a short period of time. A man he cared for deeply.

His hand slid down Sherlock's chest, all that beautiful, pale skin. When he reached his boxers, his eyes flicked up to Sherlock's. "Lift up. I want you naked."

Heat flared in Sherlock's eyes, and he complied.

John placed possessive hands on Sherlock's bare hips, leaning closer to place a kiss in the center of his chest, his lips curling into a grin at the moan he got in response. He peppered light kisses and nibbles over the large expanse of skin, feeling Sherlock's breathing getting faster under his touch, jumping with each love bite.

Shifting further down, John moved Sherlock's legs apart to kneel between them, looking up again at those intense green eyes. He watched as he stroked his firm erection, slow strokes to start, and speeding up when Sherlock was unable to stay still, moaning often. So sexy and uninhibited. So ready for this.

Leaning down, he flicked his tongue around the tip, and moved his arm to hold Sherlock's pelvis down as he really started to pleasure him. Kisses, quick licks, and then taking his cock into his mouth. Enjoying the taste as he slid along his tongue, deeper and deeper.

"John...," Sherlock gasped, his large hand squeezing his shoulder, bucking under John's caresses. "I'm getting close…"

The rough words aroused John even more, reaching a hand down to cup Sherlock gently as his lips slid up the side of his cock. He could feel his balls pulling in closer to his body, and kept the tip in his mouth, stroking the shaft with his other hand.

Sherlock froze, his muscles tense, and then moaned loudly. John could feel the contractions, pulse after pulse of cum filling his mouth, taking it all eagerly.

Panting, he rolled to the side, catching his breath. Beside him, Sherlock was still dazed from his orgasm, the sight of him like that making John feel quite satisfied. He closed his eyes, curling against his side.

But barely a couple minutes had passed when Sherlock was kissing him, his tongue flicking along his. John groaned, his own arousal clicking up a few notches.

Sherlock moved down John's chest, his hands and mouth worshipping every bit of his skin. Soft bites to his nipples making him arch up in response, as Sherlock's hands moved down to his waistband. There was a second of delay, and with no objections from John, he was sliding the boxer-briefs off.

John shifted to have a pillow behind his head, watching avidly as Sherlock saw his cock for the first time. It was so hot, watching those intense grey-green eyes looking him over so closely. John shifted, needing more.

Sherlock glanced up at John, knowing how aroused he was, and reached out to stroke him lightly, teasingly. Clearly enjoying the way John was responding to his touch. He wasn't rushing, taking his time to try a variety of strokes, cataloguing which made John pant, shift and moan.

John surrendered to it, letting Sherlock take his time to play and explore. Indulging his natural curiosity, wanting to see what Sherlock would do without instruction or guidance. He said he had fantasized daily about pleasuring John, and he was eager to let him live it all out.

"Yes, yes, Sherlock..." John encouraged, arching off the bed, "...so good, baby..."

* * *

Sherlock was sprawled between his legs now, kissing around John's knee, while his hand cupped his balls, squeezing gently, occasionally tugging just to hear John's gasp. He started kissing up his inner thigh, and loved how John spread his legs wider, bending his knees, every action showing how eager and willing he was. Completely aroused by Sherlock's caresses, and begging for more.

It was so hot seeing his dom like this, and it felt right, focussing completely on his pleasure. Every moan he pulled from John was a validation, a sign he was doing it right, being a good sub. It warmed Sherlock, clicking with something deep inside. It was almost better knowing he was pleasing his dom that being pleasured himself. More satisfying somehow. It made Sherlock want it even more.

He had worked his way all the way up John's leg, and did a little bite into the skin there, loving the way he jumped in reaction, his breath catching. He nuzzled into John's balls, inhaling deeply, running his open mouth over them. While he did this, his hand stroked over his thick cock, feeling how hot and hard it was under his fingers.

"Sherlock...," the moan was rough and full of need, and he had never heard his name said like that before.

He looked up at John, flushed with arousal, his eyes full of heat as they met Sherlock's. He held his gaze as he shifted up, holding the base of his cock, as he rubbed the wet head over his full bottom lip. He licked his lips slowly, savouring the taste that was pure John. Kissing along the side as he dragged his lips downwards. Every caress had John twitching against him, his breathing getting faster.

His hands stroked, sliding easily now from his saliva, and Sherlock teased the tip with flicks of his tongue. Little licks with the tip of his tongue, and occasionally a big, wet swipe of his full tongue.

"Please, please...," John moaned, after being teased like that for what felt like a year.

Sherlock smirked wickedly, looking incredibly sexy, knowing the sexual power he had over John at this moment. He never thought he would hear John beg, and it was hot. "What do you want, John? Maybe if you ask nice, I'll give it to you."

John gave a frustrated moan, arching his hips up. "Your mouth, Sherlock. Take me in your mouth."

Sherlock obeyed, opening a little to take just the tip into his mouth, surrounding it with moist heat as his tongue swirled around it. John's hand came down to Sherlock's hair, digging into it to keep him from moving away.

"Yes, yes..." His eyes were closed tight, his hand urging Sherlock for more, greedy and desperate for more.

Sherlock could see now why John found it so hot to have Sherlock in this state. Desperate and horny, so responsive to the smallest touch. He felt powerful, doling out caresses a little slower than John wanted, teasing him. Making him whine for more.

Slowly, he eased down John's cock, feeling it press along his tongue, the thickness filling his mouth to the brink. He tried to get to the base, but found he almost gagged on it, so eased back. He started moving his head, moving up and down on the wet cock, his fingers playing with the base.

Even after months of imagining this, the reality of it was even hotter. He was totally in the moment, just soaking it in with every sense. Tasting John, smelling him, hearing his moans and his fast breathing. Feeling his fingers clench in his hair when he sucked on the tip or flicked it with his tongue, before taking him deep in his mouth again, John arching his hips up for even more.

It was a feast for his eyes as well, taking it all in. John sprawled out on the bed, sweaty, breathing hard, his eyes unfocused as he sought his pleasure. Finally seeing his cock, and being able to touch and taste it. No wonder people became obsessed with sex. He had never felt so alive. Never felt so connected and in sync with someone else.

"Yes, yes, so perfect..." John moaned, and then his body tensed under Sherlock, his hips lifting and his hand clenching in his hair.

Sherlock had felt John cum against his hand, but it was so much different in his mouth. He felt the surge of warm fluid coating his tongue, the taste a little bitter and salty but familiar from other times. More shot into his mouth, and he panicked a little, and softened his lips, letting the fluid escape. It dripped out, coating his chin, and dropping down to John's stomach.

"Fuck..." John moaned, his eyes taking in the sight as he sagged back down on the bed, his hand loosening in Sherlock's hair, and stroking it clumsily.

Sherlock took in his dom, looking so sated from the intense orgasm, and felt a surge of pride. He had made John look like that, satisfied and happy. It felt so good.

He relaxed onto the mattress, lowering his head to rest on John's hip. His hand was still around his softening cock, and he stroked it lazily, taking in John's reactions to being touched now, when he was more sensitive. John seemed to allow it, still stroking Sherlock's hair as he calmed down.

His cock was soft now, and Sherlock shifted closer to take him in his mouth, resting against his tongue. It felt good to hold John completely in his mouth, small and soft, such a contrast to how he was fully aroused. What would it feel like, to feel John getting harder in his mouth? From completely flaccid to erect? He gave a small suck, seeing if he could get any type of reaction yet.

Laughing, John pushed Sherlock's head away. "Enough, enough. I need recovery time." His eyes were fond as Sherlock nestled again against his hip. "Sheesh, give a guy a taste and he becomes a cumslut." His grin was wide and teasing.

Moving to the wet patch on John's stomach, Sherlock licked it up with long strokes of his tongue, and then glanced up at John, licking his lips. "Yup. Just for your's though."

"Fuck, I've created a monster." John's hands on his shoulders urged him upwards, and Sherlock laid beside him. John kissed him deeply, his tongue running along his, seeking out the taste. "My monster." John chuckled fondly.

Sherlock was looking a little unfocused, panting hard. Shifting closer, his erection pressed against John's hip. It was no wonder he was aroused again, after taking so much time to pleasure John. He still had a hundred questions he wanted to ask Sherlock, about what had happened the last few days, but having this gorgeous, aroused man pressed against him was a little distracting.

As a good dom, he really should get up, leave Sherlock in that state. He had had his orgasm, and part of his training was that he had to wait and get a bit desperate for the next one. He was lucky if he got two orgasms a week. To let him have two in one day was completely against the unspoken rules.

But looking into those amazing green eyes, John just felt incredibly lucky to have this man back in his arms again, safe and sound. And with an internal " _Fuck It_ ", he kissed his way down Sherlock's chest, his hands stroking up his inner thigh, smiling as Sherlock moaned in response.

* * *

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: I love long weekends. Got lots of writing done, so lots of updates for you. Hope you liked this one. :)


	13. Chapter 13

Loud knocking on the door woke them up, and John gave Sherlock a questioning look.

"I'll answer it. You can go upstairs and get some clothes on." Sherlock smirked, watching as John sprang out of bed starkers and gathered up his dirty clothes from the floor.

Pulling on his robe, he stumbled to the door, peering through the peephole before opening it. "What are you doing here, Gavin?"

Rolling his eyes, the DI walked in, scanning Sherlock up and down critically. "Geez, look at you! You seem like you've been through a lot."

His dark eyes roamed over Sherlock's messy hair, unshaven face, the marks and bruises on his skin. His gaze sharpened when he spotted a red mark on his neck that seemed a little out of place.

Sherlock turned away abruptly. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to come by uninvited?" He strolled into the kitchen and started making tea. His stomach was rumbling, so he put some bread in the toaster as well.

Lestrade wasn't put off by Sherlock's dismissive tone, following him to lean against the doorway. "You vanish for a few days without a trace, sending everyone into a panic. John kept calling me, and we even put out a missing persons report on you. Where were you?"

John appeared, his hair messy as well, but wearing jeans and a thick jumper. Lestrade looked him over carefully, his eyes zooming in on a red mark on his neck, and he smirked.

"Yeah, Sherlock, I'd like to hear your story as well." John got some plates out and buttered the toast. He gave Lestrade an inquiring look, and the DI shook his head.

Carrying the plates out to the living room, he set them on the coffee table. Sherlock brought out a tray of tea, and settled on the other end of the sofa. Lestrade sat in an armchair, sipping his tea.

Sherlock took a few bites of toast, before glancing at his waiting audience. "I went to Cornwall."

John lowered his brows in disbelief. "That's five hours away! You didn't think of mentioning that to anyone?"

Shrugging, Sherlock turned to Lestrade. "It just made sense after we searched their house."

Lestrade sighed impatiently. "My team searched the house. You showed up and pushed your way in." He leveled an unimpressed look his way. "We found the jugs of water. Why did you link the case to Cornwall?"

Sherlock scrolled through his mobile, and turned it around to show them a picture of an envelope. "I saw this on their desk. A letter to the husband, with a return address from there."

"So?" John finished off his toast and set the plate on the coffee table.

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock's expression switched to his intellectual snob one. "Historically, about half the world's arsenic was mined from there. Private wells in the region often test at unsafe levels."

Lestrade leaned forward. "So, you thought the husband had an accomplice there supplying the water, and you wanted to get a sample."

John glanced down at the red marks on Sherlock's wrist. "But you were caught in the act and tied up. How did you get back here?"

Looking down, Sherlock seemed to lose his cockiness over his deductions, and was embarrassed over what had happened. "I was locked in a shed. I couldn't get the bonds off, so I crawled across the floor and was able to kick the door open. I made it over to some bushes and hid for the night from my captor. Luckily it was raining and my tracks were washed away."

"No wonder you were so muddy and covered in leaves." John grumbled.

"The next day, I found a piece of broken glass and was able to cut my bonds with it." Sherlock ran his hand through his hair, sighing. "I was cold, hungry and my phone was dead. I just headed south, hoping I'd find a town to call for help."

John glanced at Lestrade. Obviously, Sherlock would have called one of them if he could have. The DI shook his head.

"A black town car showed up and the driver waved me in. There was food, water and a blanket in the back. After eating, I just fell asleep and didn't wake up until the car stopped here." Sherlock shrugged, but then scowled when Lestrade and John gave him blank looks. "Mycroft obviously sent that car."

"Your brother?" Lestrade shook his head in disbelief.

John put a hand on Sherlock's arm. "When you were gone so long, I asked Mrs. Hudson to contact him. And I'm glad I did, even if you two have a bad relationship. Who knows how long it would have taken you to get home safe without him?"

Sherlock looked down at John, his irritated expression fading into a warm one as he saw the concern in his eyes. He placed a hand over John's, giving it a little squeeze.

The sound of a throat being cleared made them both jump a bit. "Well, I'm glad you are back safe, Sherlock. Please text me when you go running off next time, to save John some worry, at least." Lestrade knew it was useless to ask Sherlock to stop investigating cases on his own. "I'll liaison with the police in Cornwall and pick up his accomplice for questioning, plus get the well water sample."

Sherlock showed him to the door. "Keep me in the loop."

John cleared the dishes away, and took them into the kitchen.

Cuddling up behind John at the sink, Sherlock kissed the back of his neck. "Hmmm...leave the dishes for later. Come back to bed."

John shot him an angry glare. "You really think you deserve a reward when you acted so irresponsibly? Do you know how worried I was about you?"

"It was a case." Sherlock shrugged, a bit confused at John's reaction.

Turning to face Sherlock, John gave his best authoritative stare down. "I came home night after night to an empty apartment, thinking the worst things possible had happened to you, hardly able to sleep. I'm glad you got away with it this time, but it easily could have gone much worse."

Seeing John like that clicked into Sherlock's sub side, and he shrank at seeing his dom so unapproving. He bowed his head, looking down. "I am sorry, sir. Please forgive me."

"What are you sorry for, Sherlock?" John asked, straightening up to glare down at the man.

Sherlock shook his head slowly. "I should have told you or Lestrade where I had gone. I shouldn't have been so reckless."

"Why, Sherlock? Why is it important that you do this, going forward?" John put a finger below Sherlock's chin to tilt his face up, looking into his contrite green eyes.

Sherlock pressed his lips together. "Because I could have been hurt. Because you were worried about me."

Nodding in satisfaction, John leaned his forehead against Sherlock's, looking at his eyes from this close distance. "Because I care about you, Sherlock. And so do Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. And even your brother." He leaned in, giving the brat a light kiss, wrapping his arms around his waist in a loose hug.

Sherlock burrowed in closer, his face against John's neck, hugging this precious man to him. It meant a lot to be on his good side, to be forgiven.

John pulled back, giving Sherlock a half smile. "I'll let you off with a warning this time, but if you ever do anything like that again, you will be punished."

"Punished?" The word sent a strange tingle through Sherlock.

Seeing the spark of interest in his eyes, John chuckled. "Hmmmm...yes. Maybe a nice, hard spanking." He smoothed his hand over the curve of Sherlock's ass.

His eyes warming, Sherlock pushed back against John's hand. "Maybe you should give me a sample of that, to keep me in line."

It was good seeing Sherlock so open and playful with his sexuality. Spanking wasn't something John usually indulged in, since he wasn't into pain play normally. But the thought of spanking Sherlock was appealing. He swatted him hard, the impact dulled by his robe.

Sherlock laughed in surprise, and kissed John's neck. "Mmmm...come back to bed. Let's play doctor. You can inspect the damage to my bottom. Kiss it better."

John knew he should resist. They had played around all last night, and a little this morning already. It was time to get back to their normal routine.

But Sherlock was far too tempting, or maybe John just wanted to reconnect after everything they had been through. Whatever it was, he took Sherlock's hand and tugged him back to the bedroom.

XXX

"Oh my God..." Sherlock panted, wiggling on the bed.

Smirking a little, John added some more lube to his fingers, and worked another one into Sherlock, carefully stretching him. He leaned closer, licking and sucking his cock as his fingers teased his prostate.

Sherlock's moans showed he was enjoying himself. It was amazing to think that this was a man who hadn't really been sexual a few months before. He was so open to try anything John suggested, giving himself over to sensations eagerly. His responsiveness fed John's desire as well.

"Mmmm…I want more…" Sherlock moaned, rocking into John's motions.

John scissored his fingers, smiling in satisfaction at Sherlock's shuddering reaction. "You are taking three fingers already. I don't want to overdo it." When Sherlock was this aroused, he lost track of his own limits sometimes.

Sherlock's eyes were half-lidded as he gazed down at John. "No, I want your cock. Fuck me."

The words sent a surge of desire through John. He had been so focused on pleasuring Sherlock, that he had ignored his own erection. The words made him very aware that he had been hard for a long time.

"Are you sure? That's a big step, Sherlock."

Nodding, Sherlock held out his hand, urging John to move upwards onto his body. "Yes. I want you so much. I'm prepped. We're tested. Come here."

Feeling a little out of breath, John shifted upwards on the bed, and smoothed lube over his cock, hissing at how sensitive he was already. Maybe he should wear a condom, to make the sensations less intense. But the idea of being inside Sherlock with no barrier was too tempting. He hadn't had unprotected sex in many, many years.

Holding Sherlock's gaze, John pushed in slowly. They both groaned at the sensation, and John could tell Sherlock wasn't that comfortable at first. His cock was a lot thicker than three fingers. Staying still, he waited, feeling Sherlock relaxing gradually. Could feel it when he was ready for more, nudging deeper.

Sherlock was soon lifting his hips, pushing for more, wanting it all. Meeting John eagerly for each stroke, his eyes flashing. Their rhythm sped up, and John could read that Sherlock was getting close. He didn't hold back, wanting to share this.

With a slight tilt of his hips, he could feel that he was hitting the perfect spot for Sherlock, making him throw back his head as he moaned. "John…John…" His voice was deep and rough.

Moving his hand to Sherlock's cock, he could feel his hips twitch as he pressed up, fucking into John's fist. Following his lead, John concentrated on his pleasure, wanting to feel him lose control. Lose himself in it all. So beautiful, his man.

"John..." Sherlock gasped, his gaze locked with John's as he stiffened, shudders wracking his body as he came hard.

John was only a few heartbeats behind him, the sensations of Sherlock pulsing around his cock too much to hold back. He pushed deep, clutching Sherlock's hips, his orgasm long and intense.

They collapsed, tangled up together, panting and sweaty.

Sherlock gave a weak chuckle as John rolled off to the side, looking down at their bodies, smeared with lube and bodily fluids. "Mmmm...you did warn me that good sex is really messy."

"Aren't a few more showers and loads of laundry worth it?" John kissed his shoulder, feeling so good and relaxed.

Leaning close, Sherlock kissed near John's ear. "Let's have a really hot bath. We need a good soak after the rigors of the last few days."

Nodding in agreement, John watched as Sherlock got out of bed and soon heard the bathtub filling. It had been a crazy few days, both feeling exhausted from Sherlock disappearing for so many days, and then having so much sex the rest of the weekend.

John just shook his head at it all. He had let go of the reins all weekend, letting Sherlock do anything he wanted. Doing everything he wanted as well. It had been a long time since he was in an exclusive relationship like this, for such a long period of time.

Was it normal that their dom/sub roles softened with time and familiarity? Were things simply different between them now? Did Sherlock want things to stay like this, acting more like boyfriends having frequent vanilla sex? Did John? If John let things continue this way, could their relationship work out, or would it screw everything up? Did Sherlock want to go back to being a sub, would he miss it? Would John miss being a dom? Would he bore of vanilla sex with Sherlock, or was there something different about this man that would keep John interested?

Pushing away the questions with a sigh, John walked to the bathroom and stepped into the tub. The water was just a degree or two from being too hot, and he sunk back against Sherlock's chest, smiling as he was wrapped up with long arms and legs, holding him close, and Sherlock kissed along his wet neck.

"Mmmmm you feel perfect right here, John." Sherlock whispered into his ear.

Turning his head to capture Sherlock's lips in a soft kiss, John's heart beat hard, just wanting to remember this moment, this feeling, forever.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Sexy times with feels!

-Arsenic: Cornwall is the county in the southwest corner of England. Historically, it had strong mining and fishing industries, but it's mainly supported by tourism now, attracted to the sandy beaches and scenery. The area is rich in minerals, and in the 19th century, half the world's arsenic came from Cornish mines. Many private wells in the region have arsenic above the WHO recommended 10 micrograms per litre of water (µg/l), with some testing 5-10 times over this level.

Arsenic has been purposely used as a poison for centuries. A large dose can kill quickly, with severe gastric distress, burning esophageal pain, vomiting, and diarrhea with blood. The symptoms look similar to death from Cholera. The poison has no odor or taste, so it is easy to hide in food or drink. Long term exposure at lower levels can cause burning pains in the hands and feet, a numbing sensation throughout the body, swelling and skin irritations, hair loss, weight loss, cramps, vomiting, nausea, visual impairment, and eventually heart failure. It is also considered carcinogenic.


	14. Chapter 14, Part 1

***MONDAY***

Coming home from work Monday night, John felt himself tense when he realized Sherlock wasn't home. Thoughts of concern rushed to him, but he took a few deep breaths, calming himself down. Sherlock was an adult man who had survived for years on his own. John had to trust him, let him live his life. If he wasn't home before John went to bed, he'd text him then to check in. It's what any flatmate would do.

 _But they were more than that, weren't they?_

Thoughts like that had been circling around John's head all day. He sighed as he started his workout, just wanting to do something normal and routine for a while. When he finished, he had a long shower, and made dinner, eating alone in front of the Telly. He put Sherlock's portion in the fridge.

It just felt too quiet, too dull, sitting alone in the apartment. With a sigh, he picked up his phone.

 **Hey, Sherlock, what are you...**

Swearing softly, John deleted the message he started. No, they had spent the whole weekend together. It was healthy to be apart. See friends.

 **Hey Mike, it's been a while since we went for a drink. -J**

* * *

Ten minutes later, he was pulling on his jacket, when the door opened. Sherlock entered, his eyes sweeping quickly over John.

Stepping closer, John planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Good evening. I'm just popping out for a drink with Mike. Dinner is in the fridge for you." And then he slipped out the door.

* * *

***TUESDAY***

Sherlock was there when John got home Tuesday night, and he felt sense of relief. Sitting down beside him on the sofa, John wasn't sure if he should kiss him hello, or cuddle against him.

Just like last night, when he'd gotten home a little inebriated to a dark apartment. He had stood at the bottom of the stairs, hesitating. Should he go into Sherlock's bedroom, strip and slip into his bed? Would he be welcome? Or should he give Sherlock some space? A night to himself. After a moment or two, he went up the stairs to his own bed.

"Have you eaten? I fancy some vindaloo, so hot it burns your tongue off." John finally said, trying to sound normal.

Sherlock gave him an assessing look. "Fine, order whatever you like." He looked down at his book, a thick tome on chemistry.

John had a hard time reading much from that. Shrugging, he placed a delivery order, and switched on the Telly. Just give it time.

The food came and John dished out a couple plates of it. It smelled delicious, and his stomach rumbled as he carried the meal to the living room. He passed one to Sherlock, and settled back in the sofa.

He breath caught when Sherlock sank down on the pillow in front of the sofa. His spot. He couldn't resist reaching out a hand to cup the nape of Sherlock's neck, pushing his hand upwards into his curls.

Sherlock leaned back into his touch, and it started a glow inside John. It was still there. Their connection. With a small squeeze, he let go to dig into his meal. After dinner, they could cuddle, touch more, maybe make-out like they used to.

Just as they were done eating, Sherlock's mobile binged, and he looked at the screen. Immediately, he jumped up and was pulling on his Belstaff. He paused, turning back to John. "Um, Lestrade texted that he has the wife's sister at the Yard, for questioning."

John's heart sank. "Oh...well, yes, of course. You must go. Um, see you when you get back."

Sherlock nodded, and was at the door when he paused again, looking back at John over his shoulder. "Come with me?"

John's heart began thumping again at that, and he nodded. "Sure...as you colleague?"

Smirking back as John got his coat on, Sherlock nodded. "That's right."

* * *

"How did your sister and brother-in-law meet?" Lestrade asked, fiddling with his pen.

The woman in her late fifties met the DI's eyes easily. "It was the summer Tessa turned seventeen. Our family had rented a big house on the Cornish coast that summer. Eddie was a few years older, and worked for a company that rented small sailboats and gave lessons. They had a summer romance, the typical rich girl fooling around with a local bad boy. She's just lucky she didn't get pregnant."

"And at the end of the summer?" Lestrade prompted.

Marie sighed. "We went home, and she went on like a good girl should. Graduated, got a degree from a prestigious university, married well. They met up again thirty years later, the summer after she got divorced and was back in the area regrouping. I think he sensed she was vulnerable, and exploited it."

Lestrade made a few notes. "It sounds like you never liked him."

She shook her head, her perfectly coiffed red hair swaying with the motion. "I saw through him right from the start. He was an opportunist, a poor kid who thought she was his golden ticket. Tessa was too much of an optimist to see it."

John put his hand on Lestrade's arm. The DI looked down at it, and flicked his gaze to John's, nodding.

"Um, how was Tessa's health?" John asked.

The woman looked over Sherlock and John, likely assuming they were with the Yard as well. "Great, until the last few years. She had travelled a lot in Japan and China over the years, so she wasn't a big believer in westernized medicine, no matter how much I nagged her to go to a proper doctor."

John nodded. "What kind of symptoms did she have?"

"She was a couple years older than me, so it's hard to know what was just part of getting older, going through menopause." Marie shrugged. "She had a lot of digestion issues, and her naturopath thought she was sensitive to dairy and gluten. She complained of having low energy and hair loss, but I think she wasn't getting enough nutrition from the crazy diet she was on."

"What would she eat?" Sherlock spoke up, not bothering to check with Lestrade first.

Marie scrunched up her face in distaste. "A lot of sushi, seaweed, soy, anything bland like that. Awful smelling Chinese medical teas, made with special water from a natural source. No chemically treated city water for Tessa."

Sherlock nodded. "Did she prepare her own food, or did they have a cook?"

Giving a dry chuckle at that, Marie shook her head. "Tessa never cooked a meal in her life. She usually had a cook, but after marrying Edward, as he called himself now, he took over the cooking."

"Does Edward have a lot of family still in Cornwall?" Lestrade asked, taking control back of the interview.

Marie shrugged. "I don't know, really. I think his family had some place inland."

The interview ended not long after that. Sherlock and Lestrade got involved in reviewing financial records, looking for a paper trail of how Edward had paid his accomplice. John was a little bored and tired, and went home, leaving them to it.

* * *

***WEDNESDAY***

Wednesday night, John came home and could smell food cooking. Smiling, he went to the kitchen, but Sherlock wasn't there. He glanced at the bathroom door, and could see it was closed.

He was touched at the he gesture though. They hadn't spent much time alone together the last few days, and it was nice that Sherlock was making the effort to cook dinner for them. He hadn't cooked the whole time they'd lived together, except an occasional piece of toast.

Curious, John stepped closer to the cooker, and lifted a lid of a pot. Brussel sprouts were simmering, giving off a strong scent. Scrunching his nose up a little, John replaced the lid. A package of raw salmon was on the counter, likely the next thing Sherlock was going to prepare. The other large pot on the stove was full of brown rice, and it looked fully cooked.

Glancing back at the bathroom, he didn't see Sherlock emerging, so he got a spoon from the drawer and stirred the rice. It looked done, but the best way to check was to try some. Shrugging, he lifted a spoonful to his mouth.

"DON'T EAT THAT!" A voice boomed across the flat, startling John into dropping the spoon and sending rice everywhere.

Sherlock was at his side, breathing faster for having run to the kitchen, and he pushed John away from the stove, looking him over carefully. "Did you eat any of the food?"

John lowered his brows, and shook his head abruptly. "No. I was just going to check if the rice was done. You don't want it to get mushy."

Huffing impatiently, Sherlock glared at John. "This is not food for us to eat. It's an experiment."

A dreadful suspicion bloomed in John. "Shite. This is arsenic food, isn't it?"

Sherlock was stirring his concoctions, humming happily. "Yup. Lestrade gave me a few liters from the Cornish well, and I'm determining arsenic concentrations in food cooked in it, with London tap water for the control group."

Clenching his teeth, John glared at his oblivious flatmate. "Those are my pots and kitchenware you are using. Did it occur that I don't want toxic food prepared with them?"

Sherlock belatedly realized his oversight, and glanced at the equipment. "I'll wash it afterwards."

"No, Sherlock. I will be buying new ones, and you'll be paying me back." John growled.

There was a knock on the door, and Sherlock rushed to answer it, eager to get away from John's displeasure.

"Hi Gerald." He waved the DI into the flat. "Everything is almost done cooking, but I can't run tests until everything cools. A few more hours, at least, before I'll have results."

Lestrade walked to the kitchen, and nodded at the food bubbling away in the pots. "There's no rush. We have a big lab testing the water to ensure it matches what we found in their house. Your data will just show extra ways she was poisoned."

John nodded at him in greeting, still too peeved at Sherlock to give him a smile.

The DI noticed the tension between them. "Lovers spat?"

Sherlock looked at him in surprise, and John just glared at him.

Chuckling, Lestrade leaned back against the counter. "Well, it's too bad that food is toxic. It smells good and it's been a long time since lunch."

John shrugged. "I was planning on making some pasta, but that was before my kitchen became Chernobyl."

Sherlock scoffed. "It's not radioactive, John."

"Sorry, just carcinogenic and nasty in about ten other ways. I want this kitchen spotless by the end of the night, and all your equipment in the bin." John spun on his heel, marching out of the room.

Lestrade was clearly amused to be a witness of their bickering. "You better do what he says, Sherlock. I was married enough years to recognize that tone."

His shoulders fell a bit in resignation. "Fine. I'll do it just to keep the peace. It's a good thing he doesn't pay attention to most of the experiments I do in here."

"Look, I'll take him out for some food, while you finish up and clean. Text me when you are done." Lestrade slapped Sherlock on the back, going out to the living room.

* * *

"I don't know how you do it." Lestrade commented, returning to their table with two fresh pints.

John took a long sip. "Do what?" They had enjoyed a good supper, getting to know each other more after only meeting each other in passing so many times. Sherlock hadn't texted that he was done yet, so Lestrade suggested they get some drinks at the pub.

"Live with Sherlock. Isn't he terribly moody and rude most of the time? And I saw that kitchen. Is it always full of objects you don't want to look at too closely?" Lestrade chuckled, clearly enjoying talking with John.

Shrugging, John gave a half-smile as he considered how to respond to that. _Yes, he's a moody little brat, but his cocksucking skills make up for it?_ "Well, he can be frustrating at times, but I remind myself that he's an incredibly unique man. Aside from his intelligence, he can be quite amusing at times."

Lestrade leaned closer to bump shoulders. "Come on, there's more going on between you than just being flatmates, isn't there? I've seen how you look at each other, and how worried you were when he disappeared, John."

The detective's dark eyes were far too good at reading people, and John probably revealed more than he wanted to. "We are close, maybe even best friends, which sounds like we are preteen girls or something."

Lestrade chuckled along with John. "Well, I've never seen Sherlock act like he does around you before. You mean a lot to him, John." His voice dropped to a serious tone. "Please just remember that."

John nodded. "Next you'll be asking what my intentions are towards him. Are you his over-protective big brother or something?"

Taking a sip of his beer, Lestrade examined John over the rim of his glass before replying. "I'm just saying he doesn't let many people in so close. He acts tough, above it all, but really he's not that experienced in relationships."

John nodded. There was no point arguing that they weren't in a relationship. Even if it was only a friendship, Sherlock was vulnerable. Since it was sexual and other deeper feelings were developing, he was even more out of his depth. It was good that Sherlock had a friend like Lestrade watching out for him.

"I get what you are saying, Lestrade." He patted his shoulder.

Giving a small huff, Lestrade shook his head. "Didn't I tell you my name is Greg?" He grinned at John, lightening the mood.

"Not Gerald or Gavin?" John joked back.

"The best one he came up with yet was Joffrey. It doesn't even start with a G." Greg laughed.

John smiled, and felt a pull of attraction towards the older man. He was handsome and fit, smart and funny. His dom side had pushed against Greg's, holding his eyes a little too long occasionally to test if he would look away first. There was enough challenge there to raise the interest of his dom side. If he wasn't exclusive with Sherlock, it was definitely something he'd want to pursue.

Being monogamous meant being faithful to that person, but it didn't stop the flares of interest that sometimes occurred. Friendly banter with Greg was OK, flirting was not. John looked down at his phone, seeing that there was still no message from Sherlock.

"He gets so caught up in his work. He could be done and simply forgot, or work on until the wee hours. I don't particularly want to be breathing in arsenic fumes if he's still cooking toxic rice." John sighed.

Greg shrugged. "You are welcome to crash on my sofa if you want."

It's getting late, and I assume you are still working. I'm going to stay at Greg's tonight. See you tomorrow. – J

John finished the message, and nodded to Greg. "OK, let's go."

* * *

Gasping, John threw back his head as Greg kissed down his neck. His tall, sturdy frame surrounded John's, pinning him down in a way that was surprisingly satisfying. Shifting over him, Greg's dark eyes caught his as their hips aligned, and John surged up against him, pressing together, grinding until they were both moaning.

His hands scrambled on Greg's back, pulling his shirt up from his jeans, and scooting underneath to touch his warm, bare skin. Digging his hands into it, and reveling in the way Greg groaned in response. Their mouths met again, deep, hungry kisses…

John woke up, feeling disorientated, and shaking off the vivid images of his dream. His heart was pounding, and so was his cock. Looking around, he was still on Greg's leather sofa, but noticed he was close to the edge, almost falling off. Maybe that was what had woken him up.

As he calmed down, he pulled the blanket back up and stared at the ceiling. Why had he been dreaming about Greg like that? It had only been a few days since he had last had sex, with Sherlock. Many, many times. It wasn't like he was desperately horny yet.

Yes, there was a spark of attraction between Greg and himself. But it wasn't something he could ever explore while he was involved with Sherlock. The tall berk had even been a bit jealous of them that time they were talking under the umbrella when they first met. Maybe his observant eyes had noticed something before John was even that aware of it.

Maybe it was the excitement of a new partner. For weeks, he had been with Sherlock, when he was used to dating a variety of men and women every week. There was always the thrill of possibility, of getting to know each other, and seeing if the initial attraction was carried along with deeper acquaintance.

Sighing, John rolled over onto his side. This was likely all just a result of how up in the air things were with Sherlock. They needed some time together, time to really talk openly, and see where they stood.

* * *

***THURSDAY***

The next evening, John got home extremely late. One of the other doctors at the clinic had called in sick, and John had to pull a double shift to cover for him. He was exhausted, and had hardly eaten anything all day. The last patient had been a ten-year-old girl, who had unfortunately vomited profusely all over John, and he reeked.

Staggering up the stairs, he felt relieved when the door swung open, and Sherlock was standing there in his silk robe. With a bitten off oath, he wrapped an arm around John's waist and pulled him into the flat.

In the bathroom, his long fingers made quick work of undressing John, and pulling his soiled clothes away. "Are you OK to shower on your own?" His green eyes were concerned, his manner quiet.

John nodded, feeling a little embarrassed at appearing weak in front of Sherlock. "Yes, yes…"

Sherlock stared at him for a few seconds, and then nodded. "I'll make you a sandwich while you clean up." He spun away, leaving the bathroom door open a crack.

The warm shower revived John somewhat, and he emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, relieved to be clean again.

Sitting on the sofa, Sherlock soon appeared and passed him a plate. The simple cheddar and chutney sandwich hit the spot, and John drank his tea, finally feeling like himself again.

When he sunk down onto the sofa, Sherlock was the one who pulled a blanket over him, and kissed him goodnight.

* * *

**Part one of two parts, divided due to length...


	15. Chapter 14, Part 2

*NOTE: This is part 2 of chapter 14, divided into 2 for length./p

* * *

***FRIDAY***

"Why was your cousin paying you 100 quid every month?" Greg laid down copies of Edward's bank statements onto the table, transactions clearly circled in red.

Tristan shrugged. "Guilt, probably. He landed a rich bird and left the rest of the family in the dust." The scruffy man in his forties was slouched in the chair, giving off an uncaring demeanor. Unfortunately, the sweat popping out along his top lip was incongruous with the cool temperature of the interrogation room.

Greg shared a glance with Sherlock. The taller man leaned forward. "We found several large jugs of water in Edward's house. Do you know where he got them?"

John watched, a little entranced, as Greg and Sherlock laid out the evidence in front of the suspect. His body language was already giving away his nervousness and guilt, but they were pushing for a confession. The evidence was circumstantial, and there were no witnesses to the murders. He had been surprised when Sherlock texted him, inviting him down to the Yard for their questioning of the main suspect.

Scoffing, Tristan shifted again in his chair. "How the hell should I know why he has things in his house?"

Laying down some thick lab reports, Sherlock tapped them with long fingers. "How about the fact that the water samples match water from your well? It has exactly the same concentrations of calcium, sulphuric and iron?"

Tristan's eyes widened slightly as he glanced down at the papers. "I don't know." It was the first time he hadn't had a glib answer in the last hour. They were turning up the heat slowly on him.

It was Greg's turn again. "My officers are doing a search of your house right now. They have already texted me that you use external sources for your drinking water. Why is that, Tristan?"

The shrug returned. "I don't like how the well water tastes."

He laid down a file. "The county also warned you about arsenic content in groundwater. If we checked with your water supplier, how long would they say you've been a customer?"

The suspect's eyes shifted back and forth, clearly knowing that he was cornered now. "I dunno."

Greg stood up, leaning over to get right in Tristan's face. "Answers aren't going to get you far in the courts, when you are up for double murder." His voice was a low growl.

Tristan shook his head, blinking rapidly. Speechless now.

"Did you think we wouldn't track it back to you? It looked like a random murder on the violent streets of the big city, a rich couple caught at the wrong time, wrong place. But why would they have been at that alleyway behind an empty warehouse at night?" Sherlock was the opposite of Greg, leaning back in his chair, his eyes watching Tristan's every move.

The suspect was still silent.

Greg eased back. "Look, we know that Edward was paying you for the contaminated water each month. You were probably just happy to get easy money off a rich relative, right? It was his business what he did with it, after all." His voice was friendly, sitting back in his chair.

Tristan swallowed, breathing a small sigh of relief. "Yes, yes...that was all I did. I'd never even met his wife."

John tried to keep his expression neutral, feeling excited. They had got the suspect to admit to supplying the poison. That was an accomplice charge at least.

Sherlock leaned forward. "Hmmmm...that's interesting. Because two days before the murders, you called her mobile and spoke for ten minutes."

Tristan was back to looking nervous again. He looked back to Greg, who was now seeming to be the friendlier detective. Sherlock seemed cool and detached, calmly judging Tristan and finding him guilty.

Greg patted his shoulder companionably. "Look, we have pieced this together, as you can see. Edward was slowly poisoning his wife with your well water. It had been going on for years, and I'm sure he had promised you a big payout when she finally died and he had control if her money. You probably were getting tired of waiting for the money, and put some pressure on your cousin to finish the job soon."

Tristan was blinking rapidly, the color draining out of his face at Greg's explanation. "Um...I...no..."

"Edward wasn't following your demands, so you threatened him with telling his wife about the whole scheme, didn't you?" Sherlock drawled. "You even called her and talked to her on the phone to put the pressure on even more."

It was all just too much for the suspect, and John could see his body almost deflate in defeat. He knew that they knew.

"It was never supposed to go so far, though. I was supposed to meet Eddy behind the warehouse like we always did, to drop off the water. But he brought his wife along this time, maybe to confess everything to her or something, I don't know." Tristan mumbled, shaking his head.

Greg nodded in understanding. "That would have taken away the power you had over him, and you would have lost your payout. What happened, Tristan?"

Tristan sighed. "Before he could say anything, I jumped him and we were fighting. I panicked. He's still a pretty good fighter though, and I ended up pulling a knife to get an upper hand. But then there was blood everywhere and that bitch was screaming..."

"So, you had to kill her too to shut her up, before people heard her." Sherlock finished off.

Tristan nodded, taking some tissues from his pocket to blow his nose. "I didn't go there meaning to kill them. It just went out of control so fast." He looked at Greg beseechingly.

Shaking his head, Greg stood up. "It's up to the courts now, Tristan." He took out his handcuffs and the broken man didn't resist when officers took him away.

John shook his head in bewilderment. "I don't get why Edward brought Tessa to the meeting with his cousin. What kind of outcome was he hoping for?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Tristan was threatening him with revealing it all to her, and when Edward didn't cave to his demands, called her. My theory is he didn't say anything incriminating to her then, maybe just introduced himself and chatted with her. Then she told Edward later about talking with his cousin."

Greg seemed to agree. "I think Edward felt cornered and desperate at that. He knew Tristan could contact her, used the call as a warning for what would happen next. He brought Tessa to the meeting to surprise Tristan, have a bit more control perhaps when the story came out."

"And how would that have gone? 'Honey, remember the cousin of mine you chatted with the other day? Well, we actually meet monthly to exchange arsenic-laden water that I've been slowly poisoning you with for five years.'" John arched an eyebrow.

Greg smirked. "And I thought my ex was bad." He got up stretching, and John couldn't help skimming an appreciative look over his slim frame. "Well, I have hours of paperwork to do know. But thanks to the help of you two, we have a confession and the right man in custody. I doubt we would have noticed the arsenic angle when it wasn't the cause of death."

Sherlock looked pleased at the praise, and it sent a twinge of possessiveness through John. He shook his head at that, and slipped his jacket on. "Thanks for letting me watch you two in action. It was better than watching a crime show on the Telly."

Greg followed them out of the room, and rested a hand on John's shoulder. "Thanks for putting up with arsenic testing in your flat. You can always crash on my sofa again if other toxic experiments are occurring."

John caught Sherlock's quick glance at Greg. "Ta. Goodnight, Greg." He nudged Sherlock out to the hall when he could see he was going to linger.

"You slept on his sofa? You called him Greg?" Sherlock asked, looking a bit confused.

Lowering his brows a little, John gave Sherlock an assessing look. "Yes, the sofa, and it's his name."

Sherlock grabbed John's hand, tugging him out of the police station. "Oh right...of course." He flagged down a taxi quickly and had John in the backseat in no time.

As soon as he barked the address to the driver, he was crowding a John into the corner, kissing him senseless.

After a week of almost drought-like conditions, this flood of enthusiasm was very welcome. John moaned, sinking into the deep kisses just as eagerly. Was this just how Sherlock got after solving a case? If so, he'd help him out more often.

Sherlock paid the fare and rushed John into the flat, straight to his bedroom. "Please, John... I need you naked, and on the bed." His hands were already busy working his buttons open.

Part of John was irked at Sherlock's tone. That was almost an order and Sherlock had already been the initiator of everything tonight.

The rest of John was obeying, quickly stripping off his jeans and jumper. He was too aroused to slow things down, and desire was urging him to just go along with it. Try things this way. Variety was exciting, and maybe he'd enjoy it enough to repeat it. Try taking on the more submissive role for a night.

He'd be lying if he hadn't been affected by how masterful Sherlock had been in the interrogation room, bringing his evidence forward so confidently, clearly in his element. He had been brilliant, and that was so damn sexy.

So, he was naked in the bed, watching as Sherlock moved like a cat, crawling over him. His green eyes were full of sinful promise as they looked over John, and he licked his lips. Did he know how damn sexy that was, did he even know he did it?

Their kisses started up from where they had stopped in the taxi, hot and heavy right away, both so hungry for them. John rolled Sherlock over onto his back, and groaned at the sensation of Sherlock's hard cock pressing against his.

"Mmmm..." John gasped as they rocked together. "I want you, Sherlock, so much." And then he said something completely unplanned and surprising. "I want you to fuck me."

Sherlock's eyes locked on John's. "You want me to..." He seemed to run out of words, just a bit shocked.

His brain was catching up with his mouth now, and John nodded. Yes, he did want this. Really, really did. It wasn't something he had done in years with anyone, but it felt right, at this time. With Sherlock.

Leaning down, he kissed Sherlock lightly a few times, and stared into his eyes. Let him see he really meant it. Could see when Sherlock understood, and nodded back, his breathing speeding up a little.

John found the lube and Sherlock prepped him. It wasn't the first time his fingers had played with his prostate, and John shifted away a little. "Not too much there, or this will be over quite fast."

Ready, John straddled Sherlock, sinking down at a slow pace, taking him in little by little. It gave him some control, and watching Sherlock's expression was wonderful. Knowing his look of pleasure was entirely from John.

Long fingers cupped his hips when he started moving, riding Sherlock, grinding against him in the way that it felt the best. Sherlock lifted his hips with each stroke, matching John, just as lost in the sensations.

Those hands tightened, and John could tell Sherlock was getting close. Not wanting to be left behind, John grabbed his own cock, stroking quickly with the help of precum. Waiting so many days, and having his prostate stimulated so directly made his orgasm a really intense one, coating Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock was seconds behind, clearly pushed over the edge by seeing and feeling John's orgasm, squeezing his cock with each shot and feeling it on his skin. Warm, thick fluid filled John, almost too much as he floated in his post-orgasmic glow, along with Sherlock's satisfied groan.

* * *

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: One more chapter…

-More Arsenic Info: Health risks to arsenic depend on amount of arsenic in the drinking water, the amount of water consumed each day, the length of time the water has been consumed, the dietary intake of arsenic, and individual sensitivity to the toxin. Edward was exposing Tessa to arsenic in her drinking water and tea, and cooking her food with it for many years. Studies have shown arsenic can be very high in brussel sprouts, dark-meat fish, and particularly rice. By cooking them in the contaminated water, the arsenic levels were even higher.


	16. Chapter 15 Part 1

John looked at the display of cookware, and sighed.

"It is hard to decide, isn't it?" A tall, slim older man commented, seeing John's struggle. He was wearing a dark grey pin striped suit that was fitted too well to be off the rack, and a deep red tie.

Chuckling, John shrugged. "Do you know much about this? I'm debating if I should get stainless steel or non-stick."

Looking at the choices John waved at, the man looked closely at him. "The non-stick set is about 100£ cheaper."

"Someone else is paying for it, so price really isn't the biggest factor." John laughed.

"In that case, go with copper." The man looked over at the solid copper pots, each one hundreds of pounds.

John shook his head. "That is a little high. Plus, there's a good chance I'll have to replace the set sooner or later again." He picked up the large box with the pricier stainless steel set, almost dropping the ladle and wooden spoon he was holding.

"Here, let me help you." The man grabbed the smaller items and followed John to the cash desk.

Appreciative of the help, John still found it a little odd. "Um, thanks. I should be good now."

The man didn't get the hint, still lingering, as the cashier rang up the items and bagged the utensils. Was he interested in John? What did he want?

"Why did you say you might have to replace the set?" The man took the small bag to allow John to carry the big box.

Getting on the escalator, John sighed. "My flatmate treats the kitchen as a laboratory, so I shudder to think what could happen to this set."

At the base of the escalator, John glanced over to the food hall, now regretting buying the pot set before looking around there.

The astute stranger caught his glance. "Oh, did you want to get some food? Let me help you."

John felt a little strange accepting more help from the stranger, but really couldn't resist picking up some of his favorites while in the shop. Pretty soon they were at the cheese counter, getting a good selection.

"You mentioned having a flatmate. Does he like Danish blue?" The man pointed at the cheese in question.

John shrugged. "He'd probably survive on tea and toast if I wasn't there. He's not that particular about food." He finished paying for his selections, and added them to the bag with the utensils.

"Sounds like you know him quite well. Are you just flatmates?" The man was watching John closely for an answer as they walked out of the department store. It was drizzling, so they stood below an awning.

John shook his head, taking the bag back from the man. "Um, look, you've been very helpful today, but I'm really not looking for..."

The man shook his head quickly. "No, I didn't mean that." He was quiet for a couple seconds as John looked at him, waiting for an explanation to the intrusive question. "You were holding hands with him as you left the police station yesterday, and it looked like you were kissing in the taxi."

John's eyebrows went up. "How the hell do you know that? Have you been following me or something?"

The man took on an aloof expression, straightening up to his full height. "I occupy a minor position in the British government, and you have been under surveillance. What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?"

John stared at the taller man for a full minute. "I could be wrong ... but I think that's none of your business."

"You've moved in with him and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" The tall man pushed forward with his inquiries.

John's eyebrows drew together as something the man said seemed familiar. "Wait, you mentioned working for the government. Oh, you're Sherlock's brother, Mycroft!" He set down the large box and hugged the tall man tightly, getting a squeak of surprise from him.

"Dr. Watson! What are you doing? Let me go at once!" Mycroft looked flustered as he untangled himself from John's embrace.

John chuckled, his eyes searched Mycroft's face. "You two don't really look much alike. Well, maybe the green eyes, but yours are darker." He picked up his box again. "Look, why don't you come back with me? You can help me get all this stuff into the flat and we'll sample the Danish blue."

After a moment's consideration, Mycroft nodded in agreement and flagged down a taxi. John wasn't surprised when he told the driver the address easily.

* * *

"This isn't bad, but I'll arrange for some Gorgonzola to be sent to you. I have to watch myself and not order it too often, or I'd be as big as a house." Mycroft chuckled as he popped a cracker spread with cheese into his mouth.

"Yes, you always did have problems with your weight." Sherlock drawled from the doorway, undoing his coat as he glared at his brother.

John jumped up and went to Sherlock's side. "Oh good, you are just in time. I'll make some more tea."

He came back to the living room a few minutes later, seeing the brothers eyeing each other distrustfully. "Oh, come on now. Don't be like that. Surely two adult men can work out their petty differences."

Sherlock accepted a cup of tea from John. "How do you happen to know my brother?"

John refilled Mycroft's and his own cup, before sitting down. "I was in Harrod's picking out new cookware, and he assisted me. He was really quite helpful."

Arching an eyebrow, Sherlock looked unimpressed. "Is that so? And why did you happen to be in that shop when John was?"

"As ever, I'm concerned about you." Mycroft said smoothly, sipping his tea. "The way you two were carrying on yesterday, I should have been helping John pick out china patterns as well."

Sighing dramatically, Sherlock crossed his legs. "Yes, I can just imagine your 'concern'."

"Well, I am glad to have a chance to meet your brother finally, and thank him for helping you in Cornwall." John said, trying to ease the tension between them.

"Helping me?" Sherlock sneered. "He sent a bloody car. He wasn't out searching the countryside with bloodhounds or anything."

John met Sherlock's eyes in an intense look. "It got you back to me, safe and sound. That's all that really matters." His emotions were close to the surface, thinking about how awful those days had been, worrying about Sherlock.

The brat's eyes softened, and he looked down. "Well, yes, ok then...". He cleared his throat, before looking up at his brother. "Thank you for your help, Mycroft."

His older sibling's eyes widened slightly at that, and he bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Well, I best leave now. Thank you for the tea."

John walked him to the door, and gave him another tight hug before saying goodbye, enjoying how uncomfortable it made the stuffy man.

* * *

Sherlock sighed as John left the flat a little later, heading out to Tesco's for some groceries.

It had been a strange afternoon. First, coming home to Mycroft chatting with John, and then hanging out together like they normally did on the weekends. John read a book, listening to some music, and Sherlock worked on his experiments, catching up on everything after being so busy with the case all week.

But it didn't feel normal between them. Something had changed, and Sherlock wasn't experienced enough in relationships to know what it was.

Lying down on the sofa, he stared at the ceiling, trying to work it all out. Everything had been wonderful up to his Cornwall trip. They had a good routine set up. Eating dinner together, talking easily, cuddling and kissing until Sherlock was a desperate mess, and occasionally having mind-blowing sex. John fully in his dom role, calling the shots, and Sherlock doing his best to please him.

Then it had all changed. Being captured and tied up, escaping and hiding, wet, tired and alone. In those moments, his thoughts were full of John, regrets that he hadn't told him how much he cared. And then, once he was back, being able to kiss and touch John.

Last weekend had been so incredible. John had been just as needy and desperate as Sherlock, never pushing him away, letting him finally indulge in so many of his fantasies. Touching him everywhere, exploring every part of his body for hours, fascinated and just wanting to know everything about John.

To go from that amazing openness and intimacy to how things had been this week was jarring. Sherlock was confused, and didn't know how to act. Should he act as a sub, waiting again for John to call the shots, or treat John like a boyfriend? What would that even entail? He'd never had one before.

Plus, the case and John's life kept getting in the way. He was just glad John had been involved in the case enough for it not to seem odd to invite him to the Yard those two times. He just wanted more time with John, anyway he could get it.

He had tried acting like a sub on Tuesday night, sitting in his normal spot in front of the sofa, heart pounding with nerves. It had been such a relief when John had stroked his neck and hair, like he had in the past. They were OK. They could be in the old relationship again.

But John didn't touch him again after that. It was a busy week, but being near John had kept him on edge like always. He was still following their conditions, and getting more sexually frustrated as the week went on. Had John forgotten their deal? It was so bad by Thursday night, when he was undressing John in the bathroom, helping him get into the shower, he had almost climbed in after him. Not caring that John stunk of vomit and was bone tired. It took everything he had to go make tea and a sandwich, to be a good sub.

By Friday night, he was at the limits of his control. It was heady, working with Lestrade, pulling the confession from the killer, and even sweeter to do it in front of John. Hearing his praise and seeing the admiration in his eyes was the positive attention he'd been hungering for all week. But he had noticed John's eyes lingering on Lestrade a few times, and some looks back, that sent a possessive spark through him.

As they left, John's offhand comment about sleeping Wednesday night on Lestrade's sofa had been the final straw. He probably manhandled John all the way back to the flat, holding his hand and kissing him desperately in the taxi. His need for this man was so great he couldn't hold back anymore. John didn't seem to mind at the time, his desire just as strong. The image of John riding his cock while stroking his own, head thrown back as he reached his peak, would be forever etched in Sherlock's mind palace.

As wonderful as last night was, things still felt awkward today between them. Having Mycroft here, poking his sharp nose into their business, hadn't helped at all.

What did John want? What did Sherlock want? His heart had dropped ten feet when he had gotten the text from John Wednesday night, casually stating he was spending the night with another man. He hadn't realized that Greg was actually Lestrade until Friday, and that it hadn't been a hook-up. For two days, he had been torturing himself with images of John with someone else, some casual sex with a guy from Grindr, satisfying needs Sherlock couldn't.

John hadn't broken their deal that night, but he might soon. From the start, he had been clear that vanilla sex was boring to him, and said Sherlock couldn't meet his needs. Later, he had downplayed it, but doubt still lingered. Even last night, Sherlock had thought of his own needs first, not acting like a sub in the slightest.

It was clear now what Sherlock needed to do.

* * *

***This is the first half of Chapter 15, cut in half due to length/loading issues. Please read the next part. ***


	17. Chapter 15 Part 2

*****This is the second half of Chapter 15, chopped in half for length/loading issues.*****

* * *

John opened the door to find Sherlock standing near, wearing a black shirt with grey trousers, freshly showered and looking great. "Oh, are you going out? I was going to make some dinner for us."

Smiling, Sherlock took the grocery bags from John and kissed him lightly. "I'm staying in. I'll help you cook."

Hanging up his coat, John gave a little chuckle. "Help me? I've only seen you cook arsenic rice and vegetables. Can I trust you?"

Sherlock already had the bags unpacked, and was putting the food into the cupboards. John couldn't help but admire his ass when he bent down to retrieve the new large pot.

"I'm not that experienced, but I'm very good at following directions." Sherlock said, giving John a half smile as he filled the pot with water and set it on the burner.

 _Hmmm...Sherlock was definitely flirty tonight._ John pulled out a cutting board, and started chopping onions, smiling a little to himself.

Sherlock turned John around, so his back was pressed against the counter. "Are you crying, John?" His long fingers wiped away the moisture, his eyes intent on his task.

The tall man was standing so close, smelling so good, and giving him an intense look, John swallowed hard. "It's just my eyes watering from chopping the onions, you berk." He nudged Sherlock aside, and handed him a bottle of olive oil. "Heat some of this in a pan."

Chopping up the other ingredients, John soon stepped close to add them to Sherlock's pan, getting him to stir fry them. He added pasta to the boiling water, and pulled out a bottle of white wine.

Pretty soon, they were sitting down at the kitchen table, eating their meal. Sherlock was good company, updating John on the case and answering his questions about Mycroft.

Often, John felt the urge to reach over to take Sherlock's hand, or to push a curl back from his face. He looked so beautiful. Maybe they could take the rest of the wine to the sofa after dinner, sip it while they cuddled and kissed. He'd missed doing that all week.

Instead, Sherlock stood and gathered up the dishes. "Look, I'll do the dishes if you want to take your shower. You must be tired after all the shopping you did today, and dealing with my brother."

John stood, awkwardly pausing as he watched Sherlock collecting the pots from the stove. "Um, OK then..." It was nice that Sherlock was being so helpful and considerate, but what was going on?

Shaking his head, John went to the bathroom. A long hot shower would feel good. His shoulder was a little stiff from carrying the cookware set and getting groceries.

* * *

When he got out, the living room and kitchen were empty. Sherlock's bedroom door was shut. Was he already in bed? Should John join him in there?

He was tempted, but it didn't feel right. Sherlock had been friendly and a little flirty tonight, but hadn't given any clear signs he wanted more.

Sighing, John went up the stairs. He had been sleeping alone up here far too often lately.

Opening the door, he froze at the sight in front of him. Sherlock was kneeling on a pillow on the floor, dressed in only his boxers, his head bowed and hands resting on his thighs in the perfect sub pose. He looked beautiful, simply breathtaking, with his pale skin, dark curls and the sleek lines of his slim body.

"Sherlock, what are you doing up here?" He had never been in John's bedroom before. They had only slept together in Sherlock's bed.

Still keeping his gaze downcast, Sherlock answered softly. "I am here for your pleasure, sir. To be your perfect fuck toy for the night, to use any way you want."

The words zinged through John, leaving a flare of desire in their wake. Words he had never thought he'd hear from Sherlock, with his rich baritone voice.

Stepping closer until John was right in front of Sherlock, he put a finger under his chin to raise his face, gazing down at his eyes. "I can see you want to please me. Do you want this for yourself as well?"

Sherlock nodded slowly, his gaze holding John's easily, and he could see the heat and desire in them. "Yes, sir. I want you to use me for your pleasure, be rough and test my limits. You have given me time to learn about sex and desire, but you still treat me with caution. I'm ready for more. I want it all."

John pulled Sherlock up, and kissed him hard, holding his head while he plundered his mouth, moaning when Sherlock met him with the same intensity and want.

Eyes glittering, John smiled slowly. "Strip and get on the bed. Let me see my beautiful sub."

Sherlock nodded, and slipped the silk boxers down his long legs. Naked, he crawled onto the bed, stretching out over the covers sensuously, knowing John was watching and loving it.

Pulling open the bedside table drawer, John pulled out some lube and passed it to Sherlock. "Here, I want to watch as you finger yourself open. Get yourself ready to be fucked."

Sherlock looked down at the lube, and then blinked up at John. "I'm so sorry, but I can't do that, sir."

John was confused. Surely Sherlock knew this was part of being a sub. "Do you want to safeword, Sherlock."

"No!" Sherlock said a bit abruptly, and out of character for this scene. "Um...no, sir. It's just that I'm already prepared."

He rolled over, spreading his legs, and John felt a jolt of pure desire at what he saw. A black butt plug was fully inside Sherlock.

Chuckling, he crawled on to the bed, kneeling between Sherlock's thighs. "Mmmm...my little sub was busy while I was showering. Washing the dishes, and then coming up here to prep for me." He ran his fingertips over Sherlock's ass, and rocked the base of the plug, making him grunt in response.

"I did it before you got home, sir." Sherlock said, a little breathlessly as John continued the teasing touches over his aroused body.

John moaned at that. "You were wearing a butt plug as we cooked, as we ate?"

Sherlock nodded, lifting his ass up towards John. "Yes, getting more and more aroused all night."

Reaching between his legs, John stroked along Sherlock's cock, getting a satisfying shudder and moan in response. "Oh yes. You know how I love it when you are horny and desperate."

"Please, please, sir. Please fuck me. I need your cock so much." Sherlock arched his back as John pulled the plug out a little, before pushing it back in.

Teasing Sherlock with the plug was too tempting though, and John spent a long time working it in and out of Sherlock slowly, using different angles to judge the response, until Sherlock was begging even harder to be fucked.

Taking the lube, John pulled his towel away and slicked himself up. The plug was a good size, but he was thicker, and he didn't want to hurt Sherlock. He pulled the plug out slowly.

Sherlock was on all fours, with his head down on the pillow and his ass up high. Holding his hips, John pushed in, sinking in easier than he had the last time, groaning at the feel of the tight heat surrounding him. Sherlock moaned, rocking back into the thrust until John was fully in.

A few slow thrusts made sure Sherlock was fully ready, before John really started moving. Holding Sherlock's hips, John worked him over, hard pounding, followed by shallow strokes that had Sherlock whining in complaint. He dug deep, pressing hard against Sherlock's prostate and teasing it mercilessly, edging him again and again.

Eventually, John rolled over, grabbing the towel to wipe the sweat from his face. "Ride me, Sherlock. Fuck me until you cum."

A bit tired but still trembling with need, Sherlock crawled over John and easily took him back into his well-fucked ass. With his hands on John's chest, he closed his eyes, arching his body in different directions to chase after the best sensations.

John could tell he was close, but not quite getting enough stimulation to get off. Lifting his hand to Sherlock's mouth, he pressed his palm against his lips. "Lick. Get it really wet."

His sub obeyed, licking his palm until it was very wet.

Lowering it down to Sherlock's cock, his wet palm slid easily over the shaft and around the head. Sherlock moaned, his ass squeezing around John's cock in response. John sped up his strokes. "That's it, Sherlock. Cum for me, beautiful. You are so perfect."

Watching Sherlock orgasm triggered his own, and they both moaned loudly. John yanked Sherlock down to lie against his chest, kissing him fiercely, possessively.

Rolling them over, John looked down at his happy sub. "That was wonderful, Sherlock."

"So, was I a good fuck toy? I hope you weren't holding back." Sherlock said softly, looking down at John's lips.

John gave him a quick kiss. "You took my cock so well. You were perfect."

Smiling, Sherlock reached over the side of the bed, and came back with a wet washcloth. "May I clean you up, sir?"

John nodded, stretching out as his sub took care of him, drying him off with a towel. He did the same for himself, and cuddled against John's side.

After a few minutes, John looked over at Sherlock. "Something is on your mind, I can tell. What is it, Sherlock?"

Looking a little embarrassed, Sherlock gave John a small kiss. "I have a fantasy, something I want to try with you."

The words sent a ping of interest through his sated body. "Well, I'd love to hear about it, but we may have to wait for another night to try it out."

Sherlock nodded. "Um...it's from when we first messaged and met. Your message was that I'd look beautiful on my knees before you..."

"And you do. Every time you kneel for me, it drives me crazy." John said softly, loving seeing Sherlock being so open like this.

"And when you were first viewing the flat, you said you'd love to see my lips wrapped around your cock." Sherlock said, his eyes flicking to meet John's, before darting away.

John nodded. "I remember. I still love it. You look incredibly sexy like that."

Sherlock gave a pleased smile. "We were just friends for so long, in the beginning, and those two things got mixed together in my mind. I've fantasized about them many, many times."

Thinking back, John nodded. Yes, Sherlock had only gone down on John in bed, and once on the sofa. "Well, no argument from me. We will have to do it soon."

Sherlock ran his hand down John's chest, and cupped his soft dick. "If I can get you hard now, can we do it tonight?"

John chuckled. After an intense sex session like they just had, he doubted he'd be up for anything else for a few hours. "Well, you are welcome to try."

Moving between John's legs, Sherlock kissed his cock and then took it entirely in his mouth. He sucked and played with it, sometimes rubbing slowly with a few fingers as he kissed and nuzzled John's balls. John simply leaned back some pillows, playing a lazy hand through Sherlock's hair as he explored.

It was a little surprising when he felt his cock getting harder. Sherlock was doing an incredible mixture of sucking and flicks with his tongue, and suddenly he felt more than just those pleasant sensations. He felt a pang of desire.

Sherlock gave a small moan, noticing John's reaction right away, his hands and mouth continuing their effective attentions. His eagerness fed John's arousal, and soon he was proudly kissing his way up John's fully hard cock.

Smiling, Sherlock slipped out of the bed, and knelt on the floor, again looking downwards.

Getting out of bed, John stood in front of Sherlock, his hard cock close to his face. He reached down and ran his hand along the wet length, stroking it until he was moaning.

Using a finger to lift Sherlock's face, John looked down at him. "Do you want to suck my cock?"

"Yes please, sir." Sherlock answered quickly, his eyes darting to watch John stroking himself.

John sighed. "Hmmm, I don't know. This feels pretty good. How about I just stroke myself off as you watch? That sounds pretty hot to me."

Sherlock gave a little whine. "Please sir, I want to feel you cum in my mouth."

The dirty words sent a surge of precum out of the tip, and Sherlock watches as John spread it over the tip. "That sounds good. I could just stroke myself like this, and when I'm going to cum, ask you to hold your mouth open, nice and wide. I bet you would catch most of it."

Sherlock shook his head. "Please, please, let me suck you. I want your hands holding my head as you give me every inch."

"Hmmmm..." John looked down at Sherlock, "that sounds tempting but I don't think you could take it all."

Looking up at John, Sherlock shook his head. "I want to try. Please, show me. I want to be a good cocksucker for you, sir."

There was no way John could resist that, and he nodded. Sherlock put his hands on John's thighs, and leaned in close. He rested the head against his lips, kissing it a couple times, and looking up at John. Meeting his eyes as he took him into his mouth, sucking him deep.

John gasped, his hand automatically going into Sherlock's hair. He let Sherlock set the pace, sucking, licking, bobbing his head.

After a few minutes, John brought his other hand to Sherlock's head, tilting it back a little. Gradually, he took control, until Sherlock was still and John was fucking into his mouth. His sub was doing well, taking it quite deep, but not all the way.

John met Sherlock's eyes, giving a moment to check in, and Sherlock gave a little nod. This time, John pushed in a little further, holding there. He could feel Sherlock tensing, struggling not to cough or gag, but soon he was relaxing again.

"Good job, Sherlock." John praised, as he pulled back enough to let him catch his breath.

He caught Sherlock's eye again, getting consent before trying again, a little deeper. Sherlock strained against him, his eyes watering, but he adjusted to it. John praised him again, and they kept doing this, working him hard.

John found the best angle, and could tell Sherlock had adjusted to it, pushing forward as John pushed in, determined to get to the base. John groaned, feeling Sherlock finally take him fully, his lips stretched around his thick cock. "So good, so good..." John panted.

He could tell his sub was proud of his accomplishment, and John went back to fucking his mouth more shallowly, using it for his pleasure. Ready to fill it with a big load.

Every few strokes, he slid deep, holding Sherlock there, before easing back. Using Sherlock selfishly for his own pleasure, pushing the boundaries. And his sub was responding perfectly to it all, caught up in the moment.

"Yes, yes..." John gasped, as Sherlock sucked hard on the tip, his hands stroking along the shaft, cupping his balls. For a second load, it was still a good amount, and his sub swallowed eagerly, handling it like a pro.

Chuckling at the thought, John fell back onto the bed, and shifted back to the pillows. Sherlock followed soon after, pressing along John's side, smiling proudly.

"You were amazing." John said, pulling Sherlock close for a deep kiss. "So brave, so trusting."

Sherlock was pleased at his dom's praise. "Why were you chuckling to yourself a moment ago?"

John's lips quirked into a small grin. "I was thinking that you handled my cum like a pro."

Arching an eyebrow, Sherlock gazed back at John. "Should I feel insulted or pleased at that?"

"Well, you started out as an amateur, and now you are at a pro level. Think of this as a graduation ceremony." John probably wasn't making much sense, but good sex tended to do that to him.

Sherlock acted offended. "And I had to sleep with my teacher for a good grade?"

John laughed. "OK, quit talking. You are planting all sorts of dirty fantasies in my head."

"Oh really? Living out this fantasy went well. We should do more." Sherlock gave him a curious look.

He had created a monster. John grinned at Sherlock indulgently. "Fantasies like you as a student, me as the teacher. You as a male prostitute, me as the John."

"You are already John, and already my teacher. But those do sound appealing. Should I dress up and stand on a street corner? You could pick me up and shag me in a dirty hotel room." Sherlock said, enthusiasm for the idea sparking in his eyes. "Or if you are the teacher, I think I'd be a bad student that needs a good spanking."

John hugged him, planting soft kisses on his mouth until Sherlock calmed down, returning them, savoring them.

"Sherlock, what do you want? Do you want to be friendly flatmates who have kinky sex sometimes, like we started out? Or do you want to be more like boyfriends?" John had to know. He was nervous, but he had to know.

Taking a deep breath, Sherlock let it out slowly. "I'm new to all this, but would it seem greedy if I said I want it all? Would that work?" He looked a bit younger and vulnerable.

John felt a glow inside him at the way Sherlock said that, just as nervous and unsure as John was.

Taking his hand, John gave his fingers a kiss. "I think so. So, you want to continue living together?"

"Yes."

"Sleeping together?"

"Actual sleeping? Yes, but my bed is better."

"Vanilla sex?"

"Oh yes."

"Kinky sex?"

"Definitely."

"Boyfriends?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at that. "Lestrade has made enough comments to show he knows we're involved, and so has my brother. Plus, I was grabbing and kissing you in public yesterday."

"Is that a Yes?"

"Yes, John." Sherlock smirked, and moved closer for a kiss. "Do you want all that too?"

John smiled, knowing it was a huge step, but wanting it too. "Yes, I want to be your boyfriend."

"Full time boyfriend, part time dom." Sherlock said, pulling the covers over them.

"Sherlock, you've changed a lot in the last few months. Are you sure you are ready for this? I don't want to rush you." John gathered his boyfriend close.

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not used to relationships, and I'll make mistakes. Like what I did with the cookware. I'm glad you spoke up about it. I'll learn."

"You do. You constantly amaze me, Sherlock." John stole a quick kiss.

"Challenges in life are either going to polish you up or grind you down. You have shaped me, allowed me to become a better, happier man." Sherlock said, his green eyes sincere as they held John's.

"You were a diamond in the rough when I started with you. I saw how beautiful you already were and just knocked off a few rough edges." John smiled as he ran a hand through Sherlock's curls.

"Oh god. That's so corny." Sherlock smirked back, his eyes teasing. "OK, I'll give it a try. 'A diamond can only be polished by another diamond.'" He fluttered his eyelashes a little at the end.

John rolled his eyes. "Next you'll be saying what we have together is priceless."

Taking his hand, Sherlock drew it down below the covers. "No, but I was going to bring your attention to something that is hard and needs a little polishing."

John stroked his hand along Sherlock's erection, smiling at the way he closed his eyes and moaned. "Hmmm...that certainly does need some attention. Should we schedule something around Tuesday or Wednesday?"

Sherlock's eyes sprang open. "But you agreed to vanilla sex!"

Stroking Sherlock slowly, John leaned in until their foreheads touched. "But you know how much I love you all desperate. How about when we have vanilla sex, I'll decide if you are allowed to cum."

The idea was completely unfair, and at the whim of John's moods, but it totally clicked for his sub side. "Yes, sir." Sherlock said breathily.

They kissed lazily for a while, until Sherlock calmed down, and cuddled together as they fell asleep.

* * *

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Thanks everyone for reading this story! It's been a fun journey with this sweet version of a d/s couple.


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